


You Only Live Twice

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedsharing, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Modern Setting, Peggy doesn't age, fake relationship turns real, massive spoilers for Civil War, mentions of Peggy/Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:04:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7018552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barton is injured and Steve is pulled into one of Fury’s long term infiltration missions at the last minute.  Steve is a soldier, not a spy.  He’s not on board until he discovers his mission is playing lover to Peggy Carter to help bring down Hydra once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Steggy positivity week on Tumblr
> 
> #steggyweek2K16
> 
> The back half of this story contains ALL of the Civil War spoilers. If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read it.

Steve read the mission briefing in the jet on the way to the city and he struggled, trying to take it all in.  Fury’s most trusted agents had been working on this op for, literally, years.  Deep cover, deep enough to survive the death of SHIELD.  Barton was supposed to be the one on this op.  Clearly, Barton was the better choice, the better spy and considerably more familiar with the specifics.  But Barton was in Cho’s lab again, being stitched back together and the op couldn’t wait.  So it had been Steve’s ass on the jet, rather than Barton’s.

 

The mission was thrown together at the very last moment.  Steve knew Fury seriously considered scrapping it all, throwing years of work down the drain, and pulling the plug on the whole thing.  But he decided to move forward, to put Steve on the job.  The case notes were a mess.  Huge sections were redacted, names omitted.  Presumably Barton already knew all the players and didn’t need a lot of specifics.  But Steve was lost as hell.

 

Shaking his head, he sank back into the seat, looking over at Natasha as she drove through the frantic traffic of midtown Manhattan.  The game at the Garden had just gotten out and there were people everywhere, despite the late hour.  Ever cool, Natasha didn’t seem bothered by the excessive traffic as she steered the car into an underground parking garage.  She was wearing a disguise that made her look like Agent Ramirez, a former mid-level SHIELD Agent who had been loyal to Hydra.  As far as Steve knew, the real Agent Ramirez was rotting in a CIA holding cell.

 

“Not to buy too much into my own press,” Steve said, “but how is this going to work?  How do I have any chance of making them believe that Captain America is going to side with Hydra, especially after the battle at the Triskelion?”

 

Natasha shook her head.  She had spent most of the time since she picked him up on a call in Russian, clearly working another op.  He doubted she appreciated being sidetracked to drive him around.  Looking over at him, she said, “Steve, lies work best when you keep them simple.  Captain America is going darkside for the same reason lots of people go darkside.  Love.”

 

Steve stared at her.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have a reputation as a ladies’ man.  You want Hydra to buy that I’m betraying everything I stand for, because I fell for someone?  And you expect  _ me _ to be able to put on a good enough show with some agent I’ve never met to make them believe it?”

 

She looked over at him and winced, seeming truly remorseful behind Agent Ramirez’s features.  She parked the car and turned her body to face him.  She took a deep breath.  “Peggy Carter - “  

 

But at that moment, the door to one of the parking garage’s stairwells was thrown open and a group of armed guards approached the car.

 

“It’ll work,” she said quietly, watching as they approached.  “And I’m sorry you had to find out like this.  This wasn’t the plan.  It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

 

Steve was still frowning in confusion as he stepped out of the car.  The guards escorted them to an elevator and the ride up was silent.  Steve stood there, glancing over at Natasha.   _ Peggy Carter _ .  What the hell could Peggy have to do with this?  She was dead.  She died in the seventies, an op gone wrong halfway around the world.  Steve knew the details of the case notes by heart.  And regardless of how much he needed to take Hydra down, he had no desire to relive this particular part of his past.  He still hadn’t entirely recovered from his clash with Wanda, and that had been months ago.  He would still wake up in a cold sweat, reaching for Peggy, for a dance they would never have, a life they would never live.

 

The elevator doors opened into a control room of some kind.  It reminded Steve of the deck on the helicarrier.  Rumlow was standing there.  But he wasn’t alone.  Steve went cold, but managed to step out of the elevator as Natasha prodded him in the back.  This couldn’t be possible.  There was no way.  

 

At Rumlow’s side - 

 

“Darling,” the woman said, smiling brightly, crossing the room toward Steve.  She looked like Peggy, sounded like her too.  Even the way she moved.  But Steve had seen what Natasha could do behind one of those high tech masks.  

 

He expected the disguise to fall apart as she got closer, but it didn’t.  Everything about her, from the way her hips swayed as she walked, to the slight quirk in her smile were pure Peggy Carter.  She steadied her hand against his chest and raised up in tiptoe, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips, causing Steve’s breath to catch and his heart to race.  At the feel and taste of her, he knew.  This wasn’t some anonymous agent in disguise.  This, somehow, was Peggy Carter in the flesh.  Steve did the only thing the situation allowed, he kissed her back, his hands resting at her hips, gently pulling her against his body.

 

She finally broke the kiss, running her hands through his hair, pressing her mouth to his ear, biting his earlobe as she hissed,  “Keep your mouth shut and follow my lead.”  He could hear the  hint of fear in her voice and his fingertips bit deeper into her hips.

 

“Carter,” Rumlow said, laughing, “You going to take Cap for a ride right here?”  He smiled darkly, clearly enjoying Steve’s unease.  “I guess maybe there’s some truth to the rumors about you two.”

 

Peggy laughed darkly, moving her hands down so they rested on Steve’s upper arms.  “The best rumors always have a thread of truth to them,” she replied, addressing Rumlow, though she never took her eyes off Steve.

 

Steve instinctively pulled her tighter against him, in an undeniably protective move.  He despised Rumlow and he knew the feeling was mutual.  Peggy glanced over her shoulder at Rumlow.

 

“Maybe more than a thread, eh?” Rumlow said.  “Come on,” he continued.  “We have a briefing.”

 

“Not now,” Peggy said blandly.  “I have private business with Captain Rogers.”

 

“ _ Carter _ ,” Rumlow said, irritation clear.

 

“Later,” she snapped, taking Steve’s hand, striding from the room, pulling him in her wake.

 

Steve followed her because he had no idea what else to do.  He gave Natasha a fleeting glance as they strode past her.   In the hallway, Peggy didn’t slow.  He stared at their hands, clasped together.  Peggy Carter.  Alive.

 

The journey to wherever they were going wasn’t quick and they passed many people on the way.  Some soldiers, some scientists, some, clearly, civilians.  The size of the operation was a shock to Steve.  How had Hydra amassed this many people?

 

They turned down several corridors, up two flights of stairs and then into a service elevator.  It was a large space, echoing with the sound of the machinery that powered the elevator.  Steve expected Peggy to step away, but she didn’t.  She rested, quiet, against his side.   He could feel the coiled tension in her body and assumed there must be bugs or cameras in the elevator.  His arm went around her shoulders, seemingly of its own volition, and she relaxed a bit.

 

The elevator finally opened out into another parking garage, different from the one Natasha had used.  There was an SUV with blacked out windows and a driver waiting.  Peggy climbed in and Steve followed.  As soon as they were inside, the driver pulled away.

 

Peggy looked over at him in the dim light.  “You should buckle up,” she said blandly.

 

Steve shrugged.

 

“Then at least do me the favor of scooting closer,” she said.  Her voice was low, seductive and it caused a shiver of anticipation to work its way up his spine, despite the trepidation he felt.  Slowly, he slid across the seat toward her.  Again, she leaned into him, taking his hand and twining her fingers through his, like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

 

For his part, Steve’s heart was hammering and he was sure his palms were damp.  What the hell was going on?  He had mourned her for  _ years _ .  She was his first thought when he woke in that damn fake recovery room.  She was his heart’s deepest desire, the one Wanda used to send him reeling.  And here she was, alive and whole and leaning against him with an easy rapport they’d never quite reached.  

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, relieved that his voice didn’t betray any of his nerves.

 

“My place.”  She sounded soft, tired, and he wanted to lean over and bury his face in her hair.  He refrained.  He still had no idea what was going on, not really.  And while Peggy was playing her part admirably, he knew it was just that, a part.  He’d seen her in action.  He knew how good she was.

 

Maybe half an hour later, the driver pulled into yet another underground parking garage.  It seemed that Hydra must have a hard and fast rule against open air transfers.  He dropped them near a coded elevator and left without a word.  Peggy never released Steve’s hand, once again standing unnecessarily close to him in the elevator.  When they finally stepped off, the hall was dimly lit, the carpet muffled sound.  He suspected the entire building was nothing but obscenely expensive condos.  They were up high.  He wondered how Peggy managed to afford the view.

 

Peggy pressed her palm to one of the doors and then pushed it open, dragging him inside.  She flipped on a light and then closed the door, shoving him back against it, kissing him again.

 

Steve didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know where to put his hands.  He parted his lips for her and she touched her tongue lightly to his.  His breath was coming in sharp bursts and he finally settled his hands at her waist.  

 

Slowly, she pulled away, breathing hard.  “On second thought,” she said.  “Just a moment.  I don’t feel like giving Rumlow a free show.”  She she removed something from her pocket.  There was a flickering of lights and the device mapped the room, indicating what Steve assumed must be bugs.  Peggy walked to each of the bugs, placing a tiny little dot next to each of them.  She touched the device again there was a soft hiss and a smell of ozone.  She adjusted some settings and scanned the room again.  Apparently satisfied, she slid the device back in her pocket.

 

She looked at him, her entire posture changing.  She seemed more relaxed, but somehow more closed off.  “We can talk now,” she said wearily.

 

He shook his head, staring at her.  “ _ How _ ?”

 

She blinked at him and he could read nothing in her expression.  She finally looked away, sighing.  “Long story,” she said.  “Fairly entertaining, but currently irrelevant.”

 

He was angry, irritated, and gleefully happy all at once.  Frowning, he walked over to a couch and sat down.  He stared at her.  None of this should have been possible.  Peggy Carter should have been in her nineties, if she was still alive at all.  But here she was, looking exactly the way he remembered her.  Tasting and feeling exactly the way he remembered.  “How long have you been on this op?”

 

She looked at him for a long time.  She glanced toward a bank of windows that looked out over the city.  “Decades.”

 

He nodded, clasping his hands together, struggling to make sense of her words.  If she’d been on this op for decades, then she wasn’t like him and Bucky.  Not quite.  She hadn’t spent the bulk of her life in stasis.

 

Slowly, Peggy walked closer to him, but took a seat in a chair, rather than next to him on the couch.  “I’m sorry, Steve,” she said carefully.  “I wanted to contact you, after they woke you, but at the time it wasn’t possible.”

 

“And now?” he asked, meeting her gaze and holding it.

 

“Now it’s a different game,” she said wearily.  “Hydra’s out in the open, SHIELD is in shambles.  It’s a free for all, everyone scrambling for their piece.”

 

“Including me, apparently,” he said with more than a little bitterness about how he’d been dragged into the op, blind.  He leaned back against the cushions and sighed deeply.  “Except I’m not supposed to be here, am I?  Barton is.”

 

She watched him for several heartbeats, but didn’t seem to take issue with his tone.  “Barton’s cover was different,” she said, answering his unspoken question.  “He wasn’t my - “

 

“Lover?” Steve said, throwing it down like the challenge that it was.

 

“No,” she answered evenly, meeting and holding his gaze, refusing to be cowed. “Barton’s cover was as my associate, my protege.  Not a romantic entanglement.”

 

“But mine is,” Steve said.

 

“It seemed the most likely story, in light of our history,” Peggy said tightly.  “I apologize if you have someone at home who’s going to be upset, but the stakes are quite a bit bigger than you and me.”

 

Steve ignored the question and instead said, “How about you explain what the hell this op is, because Fury’s case notes weren’t much help.”

 

Steve listened intently, for hours, as Peggy laid it all out.  She had been undercover, a mole within Hydra, for decades.  She conferred, at first, only with Fury, and then later with Natasha and Barton.  It was dangerous work and from listening to her story, Steve knew that Peggy did an incredible amount of work to mitigate Hydra’s impact.  But not enough to save SHIELD.  It was clear she was bitterly angry about that and about Alexander Pierce specifically.

 

“You knew Pierce well?” Steve asked.

 

Peggy gave him a look that he didn’t understand, but all she said was, “Yes.”  She sighed.  “He hid a lot of things from me.  I screwed up and I intend to make reparations for my mistakes.”

 

“And now that Pierce is dead?” Steve asked.  “What does that do to your cover?”

 

“It didn’t do it any favors,” she said, “though it’s not the end of the world.  The big issue right now is that his death created a power vacuum within Hydra.  They’ve managed, so far, between Rumlow, Ward and Carson.  But it’s not a long term solution and they all know that.  Someone is going to have to make a big play, and soon.”

 

“And what’s your plan?” Steve asked.  “Do you go along, maintain cover?  Or are you going to try to stop them?”

 

Peggy frowned.  “You know how Hydra operates,” she said.  “Cut off one head,” she motioned with her hand, to illustrate her disdain for Hydra’s rhetoric.  “It works.  To a point.  But there has to be an ultimate power structure.  If we can remove all of the big contenders from the running, I think it might be the death knell for the entire organization.”

 

“So,” Steve said, “Rumlow, Ward, Carson.”

 

“There are a few others,” Peggy said, “accountants, money people, people who know where the bodies are buried, key scientists.  I have names, locations.  If we can take them out of the picture too, it should do it.”

 

“Sounds simple,” Steve said, baiting her.

 

She frowned at him, running her fingers through her hair.  “You know it’s not,” she replied wearily.  “And as much as it pains me, I can’t do it alone.”

 

He looked at her.  Physically she looked good, and not just good for her age.  She looked young.  If he didn’t know better he would guess maybe thirty at the oldest.  But her demeanor told a different story.  She was tired, jaded, possibly heartbroken as well.  “So, I’m here as your lover, someone who is willing to betray everything they believe in for - “

 

“Sex,” she said flatly.  She looked him dead in the eyes.  “Yes.  That’s the story.  People do it all the time.”  She sighed, looking away.  “I realize  _ you _ don’t, Steve.  But it’s not unheard of.  Plus, Rumlow is the strongest contender.  I need something to throw him off balance and you’ll do the trick.  He has it out for you personally.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said.  “I noticed.”  

 

He looked around the apartment. It was spacious, beautifully decorated and the view was extraordinary.  Clearly, Peggy rated some nice accommodations.  “So this is your place?”

 

She nodded.  “ _ Our  _ place.  There’s only one bed,” she said.  “We’ll have to share.”

 

He blinked at her.  “I can take the couch, it’s - “

 

“You can’t take the couch,” she said flatly.  “I can take care of the bugs, but we’re under the microscope, Steve.  They have to believe we’re together.”  She looked at him and frowned.  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding truly regretful.  “I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

 

* * *

 

Steve blinked awake, staring at the ceiling.  He sat up, breathing hard.  He glanced over and saw Peggy’s sleeping face, remembering where he was.  And why.  Shaking his head, he let out a harsh breath, turning and setting his feet on the floor.  While this wasn’t the weirdest place he’d ever woken up, it definitely ranked.

 

In bed.  

 

With Peggy Carter.

 

He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face.  What was he doing?  He understood, logically, what he was doing.  He just ... didn’t understand what he was doing.

 

He felt like seeing Peggy last night, finding out she was alive, should have been a relief.  And it was.  The one thing so lacking in his current life were anchor points, people who really knew him.  There was Bucky, of course.  But Bucky’s mind was such a tangled mess.

 

Peggy knew Steve.  She knew him before Erskine’s formula.  She knew him through the war.  And when he looked at her - or kissed her - it was so achingly familiar.  And yet, she might as well have been a stranger.  Worse than a stranger.  Because she was just familiar enough to him to seem completely foreign.

 

Peggy was always good at stowing her personal life in the name of the mission.  But the way she talked, the bitterness.  Steve sighed.  She’d been on this mission for decades.  She’d seen SHIELD, the organization she helped build, gutted and burned to the ground.  He understood how betrayal and anger could warp a person.  But he didn’t have any insights into how to reach beyond that pain and get to the Peggy he knew.  Surely she was still in there.  Somewhere.

 

It was still early.  One glance at the window and he knew the sun wasn’t up yet.  Just one of the less enjoyable aspects of Erskine’s serum.  As quietly as possible, Steve climbed out of bed.  He was wearing a pair of pajama pants, courtesy of Peggy.  Steve hadn’t brought anything with him, not even his jump bag.  Clearly, Peggy had been expecting him.  There were basic necessities.  Several changes of clothes, toiletries. Funny how it didn’t make him feel any more welcome.  He wondered if they were left over from some previous overnight guest.  Or if she’d had to procure them.  He finally decided she had some Hydra lackey do it.

 

Quietly, he left the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him, but not latching it.  He walked through the combination living room and dining room and into the kitchen.  He found the coffee maker and started a pot.

 

He was just pouring himself a cup when there was a knock at the door.  Cautiously, Steve walked over and opened it a crack, looking at Rumlow.  Rumlow gave him a quick glance up and down, taking note of the bare chest and feet.  He held out a flash drive.  “For Carter,” he said.

 

Without a word, Steve took the flash drive and closed the door.  He knew it was a flimsy excuse for Rumlow to check up on them.  Steve had no idea what kind of impression he’d made.  Walking into the living room, Steve slapped the flash drive down on the coffee table and turned on the TV, flipping through channels.

 

It was at least half an hour later when Peggy walked out of the bedroom, dressed in a t-shirt and leggings.  She glanced at Steve before crossing the room to the kitchen and pouring herself a cup of coffee.  Without a word, she joined Steve on the couch.

 

Leaning forward, Steve grabbed the flash drive and handed it to her.  “Rumlow left this.”

 

Peggy took it without comment.

 

Steve was angry and he didn’t even know why.  All he knew was that all of this felt wrong.  

 

“What am I supposed to say?” he snapped, looking over at her.  “What am I supposed to do?  How do I convince Hydra that I’m part of this?”

 

Peggy sighed, like she had been both expecting and dreading this conversation.  “Don’t pretend you’re on board,” she said flatly.  “Rumlow wouldn’t buy it, even if you could sell it.  Go along.  Reluctantly.  You’ve perfected looking like a wet cat, go with that.”

 

He frowned at her.

 

“Exactly,” she said, nodding.  “Just like that.”  She sighed.  “It’s supposed to be an  _ affair, _ Steve.  People compromise their values every day in the name of infatuation.  If you’re going to concentrate on anything, concentrate on that.  The rest of it, be yourself.  Be angry that you’re here.  Be angry that you’re a part of Hydra.  But sell the fact that you’re not willing to leave, no matter what, even if you are mad as hell.”

 

“Because of you,” he said.

 

“Yes,” she said flatly.  “Because of me.”  She laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head.

 

* * *

 

For a secret organization, Steve couldn’t believe how brazen Hydra was.  The briefing, as Rumlow had called it, was held at an upscale eatery only a couple of blocks from where Natasha had dropped Steve last night.  It had great views of the city and Steve could actually see Avengers Tower without even turning his head.

 

Per Peggy’s advice, Steve didn’t bother pretending that fact didn’t irritate the shit out of him.  Rumlow kept glancing over at him, smirking, clearly proud of himself.  Steve was pretty sure the briefing was nothing more than a dog and pony show.  An excuse to get Captain America out in public with a bunch of Hydra operatives.  It was a game of chicken and Steve didn’t flinch.  

 

He listened to the business they discussed, but his mind was elsewhere.  Mostly on ways to kill Rumlow without getting out of his chair.  He didn’t have his shield, which was going to be a problem.  Peggy had given him a pistol and he took it, but it was never going to be his weapon of choice.  The more Rumlow spoke, the more the idea of Steve killing him with his bare hands appealed.

 

Peggy reached over, putting her hand on Steve’s thigh.  He looked at her and she met his gaze, and then looked pointedly at the pen in his hand.  He’d apparently been clicking it.  He set it on the table, shifting in his chair.  She didn’t move her hand.

 

The briefing wrapped up and Peggy was immediately out of her chair, heading for the exit.  Steve followed.  In the elevator, she was on her phone, securing travel arrangements.  When they hit the street, Steve said, “Sokovia?”

 

She nodded, walking to the curb and hailing a cab.  They went back to Peggy’s condo and she grabbed a bag, tossing in items.

 

“I don’t have any tactical gear,” Steve said.

 

“You won’t need any,” Peggy said absently.  “We’re looking for intel, not hunting down bad guys.”

 

Steve wasn’t sure the two were mutually exclusive, but he didn’t argue.  Peggy tossed him an empty bag and he threw in the few changes of clothes and toiletries he had.  They were flying commercial, first class, to Budapest.  There would be other arrangements from there.  Their falsified passports were impeccable.  Steve wore a ballcap and aviator glasses, hoping to diminish his chances of being recognized.  Peggy was dressier than he’d seen her so far, in a dark clinging sweater dress and black boots.  Her hair was loose and she wore an oversized pair of dark glasses.

 

They boarded minutes before the flight taxied from the gate and the flight attendant ushered them quickly to their seats.  Steve sat down in the aisle seat, watching as Peggy arranged herself, crossing her legs, causing her hem to ride up exposing a good deal of her thigh.  She wasn’t wearing tights or stockings.  Her skin looked tanned and smooth.  He was soon able to confirm this fact when Peggy glanced over at him, saw him looking.  She reached out, taking his hand and placed it firmly on her thigh.

 

She covered his hand with her own and settled back in her seat, removing her sunglasses and looking out the window, apparently unconcerned.  Steve tried to relax, but it wasn’t easy.  He turned his mind back to the mission.  He wasn’t sure what they were looking for in Sokovia, but he figured whatever it was couldn’t be good.  There wasn’t much they could salvage from Strucker’s lab after Ultron was though with things.

 

Peggy made an approving sound and Steve immediately snapped his head toward her.  He realized, belatedly, that his thumb was absently rubbing her thigh.  He immediately stopped.  

 

She looked at him placidly and moved her hand over his, touching him lightly.  She leaned closer to him and then reached out, touching the tip of her finger to his jaw, urging him closer.  He complied, leaning in toward her.  She brushed her lips against his, the barest touch and then leaned back.  He watched her, absently licking his lips.  She took a deep breath and released it slowly, turning to look out the window again.  Steve looked at his hand, still resting on her thigh.  

 

He should have moved it.  

 

But he didn’t.

 

* * *

 

It was evening when they arrived in Budapest.  Peggy was on the phone the second they landed, and through most of the cab ride to the hotel.  When they got to the room, she finally ended the call, frowning, with her hands on her hips.

 

“Problems?” Steve asked.

 

“The typical bullshit,” she said sourly.  “We have a rendezvous tomorrow morning.  The contact will get us to the Sokovian border.”

 

“And in the meantime?” he asked, looking around the room.  It was located in a busy market district.  He could hear the noise from the street below.

 

“In the meantime,” she said, “I’m hungry.  I’m going to change and then let’s find something to eat.”

 

The restaurant was small and dark, but the food was good.  Peggy had changed into a tight red top with a plunging neckline and a pair of figure hugging jeans.  They sat next to each other in a weird little half booth with sight lines on the entrance and exit.  Steve was aware that they were pressed together pretty much from shoulder to knee.  It was starting to not seem weird.  He thought that should probably bother him more than it did.

 

They made small talk as they ate, which struck Steve as particularly absurd.  He had plenty of things to say to Peggy Carter - a lifetime’s worth of things.  But none of it was casual dinner conversation.  They talked about movies, a couple of installations at MOMA.  Peggy seemed shocked that he enjoyed Gehr, which left Steve feeling oddly gratified.  He felt so in the dark about her and everything surrounding her.  He was glad he wasn’t completely transparent.

 

They were finished with dinner, lingering over drinks when Peggy leaned over and whispered in his ear.  “That guy at the bar.”

 

Steve nodded without looking at the guy.  “He’s glanced over here twice.”  Steve was watching him out of the corner of his eye as he took another drink.  “And again now.”

 

“Mmm, hmmm,” Peggy said, again pressing her finger to the edge of his jaw and guiding him to her.  This time he was the one to close the distance, to slant his mouth against hers.  She seemed shocked, but immediately pressed into him, nipping at his lips.  She fumbled in her pocket for some cash, laying it on the table and pulled him toward the door.  As they passed, Steve noticed the guy was minding his own business.

 

Outside, Peggy looped her arm through his.  They were two blocks away when she finally said, “Public displays of affection - “

 

“Make people uncomfortable,” Steve finished, looking down at her.  “I know,” he said.  “Shocking as it may seem, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

 

Peggy looked up at him for several long moments.  “Natasha.”

 

He looked away, refusing to comment.  “You think he was following us?”

 

He didn’t think she was going to answer, but she finally said, “No.  He probably wanted a better look at my tits.”

 

“Wouldn’t be the first guy,” Steve said.

 

“Or maybe he wanted a better look at  _ your _ tits, Captain,” Peggy countered acidly.

 

“You’re projecting,” Steve countered dryly.  “You’re the only person who’s ever tried to  manhandle my tits.”

 

Peggy snorted.  “Cheeky bastard.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was beat, and he knew Peggy probably was as well.  It wasn’t physical exhaustion, but mental.  Emotional as well.  They headed back to the hotel.  Peggy turned on one of the bedside lamps, sitting on the far side of the bed as she removed her earrings.  It was so mundane, but so strangely intimate.  It wasn’t completely outside the realm of Steve’s experience.  As Peggy had alluded to, he and Natasha shared this kind of physical intimacy.  They shared space a lot.  Lived their lives, if not together, then at least in close proximity.

 

But watching Natasha remove her jewelry didn’t feel like this.

 

Peggy glanced over her shoulder at him.  “Something wrong?”

 

“No,” he said.

 

She stood up and looked at him, narrowing her eyes.  He stood there, trying to keep his features as neutral as possible.  She finally sighed and grabbed a few things out of her bag, heading for the bathroom.  

 

When he heard the lock click into place, Steve groaned, sitting heavily on the bed.  He scrubbed his hand through his hair, wondering, for the thousandth time, what the hell he was doing.  He still didn’t have a satisfactory answer.  This whole situation was wrong.  But he knew he liked it.  And that scared him.

 

He changed into a t-shirt and the pajama pants.  He looked at the bed.  It was significantly smaller than the bed in Peggy’s condo.  And there was no couch.  He glanced at the floor.

 

Peggy opened the bathroom door, wearing an oversized t-shirt.  “You’re not sleeping on the floor, Steve.”

 

“I wasn’t - “ he started.

 

“You were,” she said with finality.  She climbed into bed and turned off the lamp.  She turned down the covers on his side of the bed expectantly.

 

Sighing, he climbed into bed.  They were both laying on their sides, facing away from the door, but the bed was so small he was nearly spooned against her.

 

“Apologies in advance,” Peggy said.  “In case I kick you.  I’ve been informed I’m not a particularly gracious bunkmate.”

 

“Thanks for the warning,” Steve said wryly.  “But I got a crash course last night.”  The significantly larger bed at the condo helped, but Peggy Carter was a menace when she slept.  She was constantly tossing and turning, shifting.  Steve doubted he would have been able to sleep well, regardless of how peaceful she was.  He wasn't accustomed to sleeping next to anyone.  He wasn’t accustomed to being physically in contact with another person, full stop.  The side effect of this was that he was painfully aware of Peggy at all times, not least of all because he wasn’t keen to catch an elbow across the face or a knee to the groin.

 

Steve lay awake for hours and was mostly successful in fending off attacks.  It wasn’t exactly wasted time.  He was learning all sorts of things.  She ground her teeth when she slept.  And she didn’t like to have her toes touched.  And the key to stopping her incessant tossing and turning seemed to be to actually get closer.  When he finally spooned against her back, she let out a little sigh, followed by a snore, and seemed to melt against him.  He expected it to be weird, but it felt ... comfortable.  He lay there, wondering where the hell to put his arm.  He finally settled it across her hips and then burrowed his face into the pillow.  

 

END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy came awake by degrees and before she even opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was.  In bed, wrapped around Steve Rogers.  She was pressed against his side, one arm and one leg draped across him.  It was disconcerting.  She didn’t do this.  She didn’t ...  _ cuddle _ .  And yet, she was.  She would have loved to blame him, but given that he was simply lying there and she was wrapped around him like she was terrified he was going to leave without her, she had to assume it was her own doing.

 

She lay there, still, trying to decide if he was awake or not.  She shifted slightly and he immediately tensed.  Sighing, she said, “I know you’re awake.”

 

“Sorry.  I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

Frowning, she pushed herself up and away from him, sitting up.  She tried not to look at him, lying there all sleep rumpled and warm.  She hated maudlin crap like this.  When she agreed to Nick’s terms, she thought she knew what she was getting into.  But she was quickly realizing she was out of her depth.  “No need to apologize,” she said briskly.  “I’m out of practice when it comes to sharing the covers.”

 

He was quiet, and she waited.  He finally said, “So, I guess you’re not - “

 

He left it hanging and Peggy considered not answering.  But intentional misunderstandings weren’t a long term plan.  And they probably wouldn’t be helpful in the short term either, regardless of the petty satisfaction they provided.  She knew that some part of her wanted to punish him.  And she wasn’t exactly sure why.  

 

“You guess I’m not in the habit of spending the night with another person?” she offered.

 

“Yeah,” he said, his features surprisingly neutral.  She expected disapproval, but there didn’t appear to be any.  Unless Steve Rogers had become a much more adept liar.  Which, she knew, he hadn’t.  He was as abysmal as ever.

 

She pushed herself out of bed.  “No, I’m not,” she said.  “I’m not sure why you thought otherwise.”

 

He frowned.  “You’re the one who said someone complained about your sleep habits.”

 

She arched an eyebrow.  “I’ve lived a long life.  That wasn’t a recent conversation.”  Or particularly civil, but he didn’t need to know that.  

 

Peggy showered quickly, then pulled her hair back into a tight knot at the base of her skull.  She applied a thick layer of sunscreen, deciding that if Steve Rogers was expecting WWII era Peggy Carter, in a full face of makeup and pincurls, he was out of luck.  Wrapped only in a towel, she exited the bathroom.  She didn’t miss that Steve wasted no time making a break for the shower.  She’d bet a hundred bucks it was a cold shower.  Apparently the lack of makeup wasn’t a problem.  It was gratifying and terrifying at the same time.

 

She dressed quickly, efficiently, and packed everything away in her bag.  As Nick had so bluntly informed her, she needed help.  She needed an ally.  And she hoped to God, that was all Nick had in mind when he pointed Steve at her.  

 

Peggy had enough sins to atone for.  She didn’t need another.  Hydra was her mess.  And she intended to clean it up.  

 

* * *

 

 

Steve hung back while she talked to Zamir, who, predictably, spent the entire conversation addressing her chest.  She put up with it because, despite being slimy, Zamir was shockingly reliable.  They’d taken a helicopter to the border and now they were re-negotiating the previously agreed upon price.  This, too, was typical.  

 

The Land Rover was at least ten years old, but it seemed solid.  The supplies she requested were already loaded, along with the gear Natasha had shipped.

 

Zamir finally agreed to her terms and insisted on shaking her hand.  Turning, Peggy motioned for Steve to load up.

* * *

 

 

“There should be an access road on your left,” Steve said.  He was looking at his phone, navigating as she drove across the uneven terrain.  It was early afternoon and these roads had been shit before Ultron decided to redecorate the countryside.  As it was, at least half the mapped routes were flat out gone and another quarter were damaged beyond use.  It turned what should have been a mundane drive to into an offroading adventure.  They found the abandoned farmstead and Peggy pulled into the dilapidated barn.  

 

“You sure no one’s here?” Steve asked, looking around.

 

“It’s a private estate,” Peggy said.  “Twenty thousand acres.  The eastern edge butts up against what was Strucker’s property.

 

“Hydra then?” Steve asked, giving the barn another critical glance.

 

“Yes,” Peggy replied tightly.

 

Steve nodded and walked around to the back of the Land Rover and started unloading gear.  There was nothing fancy.  A couple of sleeping bags and backpacks, a lantern, flashlights, some food.  Two large wooden crates, which he left in the vehicle.

 

“Open those,” Peggy said, pointing to the crates as she came to stand next to him.

 

“What are they?” Steve asked.

 

She gave him a look he couldn’t read, but he pried the lid off the first crate, smiling widely as the sun glinted off the metallic surface.  He took out his shield, looking at her.  “I thought you said we wouldn’t need any tactical gear.”

 

She shrugged, sighing dramatically.  “You looked so lost without it.”

 

Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her.  It was supposed to be a peck, a quick thank you.  But her hand cupped the side of his face and he didn’t pull away.  Her lips were soft against his, moving slowly, and she made a soft, needy sound.

 

His hand found her waist, and he pulled her against him, hard.  She gasped, parting her lips, and he took advantage, kissing her more deeply.  Her tongue touched his and his breath caught.  He hitched her higher against his body, pressing her against the side of the Land Rover.  Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist.  He groaned, pressing his hips against hers.  

 

She broke off the kiss, panting.  She looked at him, eyes glassy, lips swollen.  “Do you want this?” she asked.  “Here?  Now?”

 

He stared at her, having no idea how to answer.

 

“It’s not a trick question, Steve,” she said gently, her thumb tracing across his cheekbone.  “But I want to be clear.”

 

He licked his lips, screwing his eyes shut.  “For the mission?” he asked roughly.  “Or for us?”

 

She looked at him, shaking her head.  “Does it matter?”

 

He groaned, forcing himself away from her, setting her gently on the ground.  She stayed there, leaning against the vehicle as he paced in a tight circle, taking a deep breath.  He dragged a hand through his hair and walked back to the crates.

 

He set the shield aside and opened the other crate.  It was one of his jump bags, packed with changes of clothes, miscellaneous supplies, and several dozen protein bars.  “I’m guessing Natasha packed.”

 

“Presumably,” Peggy said, sounding far more composed than he felt.  But there was still high color across the tops of her cheekbones and she was breathing too fast.  He was glad he wasn’t the only one affected.  He saw the box of condoms tucked in the corner of his jump bag.  He was going to have words with Romanoff later.

 

There was a case, wedged against the side of the crate, labeled with a P.C.  Steve handed it to her and Peggy opened it.  She removed the items and then grabbed one of the flashlights, heading for the house.

 

Steve pulled out the jump bag and set it with the sleeping bags and then moved the empty crates out of the back of the vehicle.  Shield firmly in place, he jogged after Peggy.

 

The farmhouse had clearly been abandoned for decades.  “What’re we looking for?” Steve asked.

 

“We’ll know it when we find it,” Peggy replied.

 

Steve watched her as she knocked on walls, ran her hands along the edge of door frames, moved pieces of furniture.  “Here we are,” she said triumphantly.  She shoved her hand against the edge of a window frame and a panel clicked open on the opposite wall.  On the other side were two heavy metal doors.  She turned and looked at him.

 

Steve wedged his fingers in the seam of the doors and forced them apart, wincing at the sound of rending metal.  On the other side was a tight spiral staircase.  Peggy clicked on the flashlight and descended.  Steve followed closely.  The circular staircase was short, ending in a landing that was probably even with the farmhouse’s cellar.  Extending below was a long set of stairs that appeared to double back on itself several times.  

 

By the time they reached the bottom, Steve assumed they must be a hundred feet underground.  There was another door, this one with a keypad.  Peggy looked at him again and he rammed the edge of the shield against it, shearing the entire handle off.   The door swung open.

 

Peggy entered the room first, flashlight held high.  She found lights and flipped them on.  Steve glanced around the space.  It was partitioned into rooms, but he could tell from the way sounds echoed that it was big, easily twice as large as the farmhouse above.  He’d been expecting something like Zola’s lab under that bunker at Camp Lehigh, but this was different.  It was clearly a living space for a human, not some rogue A.I.

 

But just as clearly, it hadn’t been used in years.  There was a thick layer of dust on everything and both his and Peggy’s shoes left tracks.  Steve still didn’t know what she was looking for.  He didn’t know if she knew.  He watched as she scanned the space and then moved into the next room.  It was an office.  There were several filing cabinets and she immediately went to them, rifling through drawers.

 

Steve took the opportunity to continue looking through the rest of the space.  There was a small kitchenette with some canned goods, a water filtration system.  There was a bedroom, the bed still unmade.  He stared at it for a long moment before turning away.

 

Finally, he doubled back to the office.  He had yet to see anything that gave him any clues as to who had used this as a bolthole.  Peggy was sitting on the desk, looking through several thick files.  He glanced at the filing cabinet and there were things that looked like spiders crawling along the edges of the files.  He glanced at her.  “Stark tech?”

 

She looked up, following his gaze to the filing cabinet.  “Yes,” she said absently.  “Natasha sent them.  They’ll catalog all the paper files here, but they take time.”  She held up the stack of files.  “These are coming with us.”

 

“What are they?” he asked.

 

“Nothing yet,” she said blandly.  “But hopefully they contain something I can use against Carson.”

 

Steve nodded.  He knew who Mitchell Carson was by reputation, but he’d never met the man.

 

“Do me a favor and open the bottom right drawer,” she said.

 

Steve bent down and tugged on the handle.  “It’s locked.”

 

“I know it’s locked, Steve,” she said with a tight smile.  “That’s why I asked you to open it.”

 

He rolled his eyes, but yanked on the drawer until it gave way.  There was a rattling of glass, but he didn’t investigate.  

 

Peggy hopped off the desk and triumphantly removed two bottles of Scotch, holding one in each hand, clearly pleased with herself.  She glanced down at the drawer and her smile abruptly faded.  Kicking the drawer shut, she handed Steve one of the bottles as she gathered the files under her arm.  “We can pick up the bugs when they’re done.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was still light when they went outside, which shocked Steve.  Being in that bunker messed with his sense of time.  Peggy strode ahead, but Steve took it easy.  He had no idea what happened in the office, but it was clear something rattled her badly.

 

He watched as she took one of the packs, shoving the files in and shrugging it on.  She pulled out her pistol and her phone, consulting a map.

 

“We headed somewhere?” he asked carefully.

 

She nodded tightly.  “There’s a groundskeeper’s cabin a mile or so south of here,” she said.  “I need to ask him some questions.”  She took off walking and Steve sighed.  He set the bottle of Scotch down by the sleeping bags and followed her.

 

He was struck, again, as he followed her through the dense brush, at how unlike Natasha she was.  She moved quietly, efficiently, but she didn’t have that catlike quality.  She moved with purpose and strength.  He knew that, of course.  He’d worked closely with her during the war.  But somehow, he’d forgotten.  Or refused to let himself remember.

 

It was also plainly obvious, as he followed, that Peggy was angry.  Maybe she was angry with him.  He wouldn’t blame her if she was.  He wasn’t trying to give her the runaround.  It was pretty clear that she wasn’t opposed to their fictional romance becoming fact. But he still had no idea if she was only doing it for the sake of their cover, or because it meant something to her.  

 

Steve had never been any good at this spy stuff and this was no exception.  He couldn’t fake it.  Not with Peggy.  Not even for the sake of the mission.  So maybe she was pissed at him, maybe not.  But he knew that if he pushed, she’d take it out on him either way.  So he kept a safe distance.

 

He could tell there was a clearing ahead.  Peggy stopped at the edge, watching.  There was a small cabin in the distance.  In the grass, next to the cabin, there was a ratty old truck up on jacks and someone toiling away underneath it.

 

Steve turned to say something to Peggy and she was already charging across the clearing toward the truck.  “Shit,” he cursed, jogging after her.

 

He watched as she grabbed the guy’s leg, tugging him out from under the truck.  She had the pistol trained on him and he was staring up at her, hands held up in surrender.

 

Steve stayed back a couple of paces, listening as Peggy barked at the guy in Sokovian.  Steve didn’t understand it, but he’d heard Wanda curse in it enough to recognize it.  The guy seemed to be doing his best to answer the questions, but Peggy was getting more and more amped up.  She asked him something and the guy stared at her, clearly not understanding.  Peggy put two bullets in the ground, an inch from his ear.

 

Steve grabbed her, one hand around each wrist, forcing her back, putting himself between her and the groundskeeper.  “What’re you doing?” he hissed.

 

She shoved at him, hard enough to send him staggering back half a pace.  His eyes went wide.  “Get out of my way,” she growled, trying to pull free of his grip.

 

It was clear that Peggy was more than simply unaging.  Steve didn’t think she was as strong as him, but she was outside the bounds of a normal human physiology.  “Peggy,” he said as calmly as he could, “what are you doing?”

 

She shook her head, pulling at her wrists until he released her.  She paced back several steps, watching him, but he could tell that whatever had come over her was passing.  

 

He sighed.  “What do you need from him?”

 

She shook her head.  “Nothing,” she admitted, her voice low and hoarse.  “He doesn’t know anything.  He’s useless.”

 

Steve looked back at the guy, still cowering on the ground.  He considered offering him a hand up, but figured that would probably only scare him more.  He turned back to Peggy and she was already halfway across the clearing.  Steve threw up his hands, growling in frustration.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve arrived at the farmstead and Peggy wasn’t in the barn.  He went into the house, descending the stairs to the bunker.  Halfway down, he could smell the fumes from accelerant, probably diesel fuel.  

 

The lights were on and he could hear her moving things around in the back rooms.  Shaking his head, Steve looked at the desk.  He walked over to it, pulling open the bottom drawer.  He removed the framed picture, looking at it.  

 

The picture was of Peggy with some guy, young, blond.  The picture looked to be decades old.  They were both sitting in chairs, close to each other.  From their body language, it was obvious they were comfortable with each other.  The guy’s hand was on her knee, possessive.  Peggy didn’t seem to be thrilled that the picture was being taken.  She was looking away, jaw tight.  The guy was staring right at the camera, defiant. 

 

Steve realized he was looking at a picture of Alexander Pierce.

 

Just then, Peggy stepped into the room.  She looked at him, but he couldn’t read anything in her expression.  He watched as she tossed a match at the filing cabinet, which immediately caught fire.  She took the picture from his unresisting grip and threw it in the flames.  She started for the door, turning to make sure he was following.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve repacked everything into the back of the Land Rover.  As soon as he closed his door, Peggy pulled out of the barn and went back to the service road they’d used earlier.  She drove for at least an hour, though the roads were so uneven and they had to double back so often that Steve suspected they were still on the estate.  By the time they pulled up in front of a ramshackle little cabin, it was dark.

 

They unloaded things quickly.  The cabin was in better order than the farmhouse had been.  Peggy started a fire in the hearth.  The only furniture to speak of was a table, so she spread her sleeping bag out near the fire.  Steve pulled out some of the food and offered it to her, but she shook her head, reaching for a bottle of Scotch.

 

“How’d you find this estate?” Steve asked, taking a bite of beef jerky.

 

“It was buried in Alex’s personal holdings.  I found them when I was settling his estate.”

 

Steve frowned.  “You settled Alexander Pierce’s estate?” 

 

Peggy shrugged.  “We’d been separated for years, but neither of us ever bothered to file for divorce.  Everything went to me, though it didn’t stop his daughter from trying to take it all.  Fuck her.  I was married to that bastard for forty years.  I earned every dime.”

 

Steve blinked at her.  He opened his mouth and then closed it.  He took a deep breath and said, “You were  _ married _ to Alexander Pierce?”

 

She laughed mirthlessly, taking a drink straight from the bottle of Scotch.  “Hindsight’s always 20/20, Steve,” she said blandly.  She frowned, staring into the fire.  

 

“He wasn’t always bad,” she said quietly.  “When I first met him, he was so young, so driven.  He reminded me of - “  She stopped, falling silent.  She took another drink.  “He reminded me what it meant to care about something.”

 

“When did you meet him?” he asked.

 

Peggy stared into the fire, brow furrowed.  “‘72, I think.  It’s hard to remember.  I was lost,” she said, shaking her head.  “The downside of my unique physical condition was making itself known.  It was becoming very obvious that I wasn’t aging.  It was attracting unwanted attention, raising uncomfortable questions.  So, I needed to disappear.”  

 

She looked at him.  “Alex was with the State Department,” she continued.  “Fast track.  He was smart, ruthless.”  She took another drink.  “He cared.  Back then.  We worked closely on a couple of off book ops after I left SHIELD.”

 

She shrugged.  “We knew each other for several years.  It was casual.  Nothing serious.  We lost touch.  In the meantime, he was appointed to the Council.”  She sighed, shaking her head.  “And then there was the clusterfuck in Bogota.  I was still freelancing for Nick.  I led the strike team that got the hostages out.”  

 

She held up the bottle of Scotch, toasting to nothing.  “Nick got a promotion.  I got Alexander Pierce.”

 

Steve shook his head.  “I didn’t know,” he said.  “I mean, I didn’t know you married.”

 

“Quite” Peggy said somberly  “I’m trying to block it out.”  She groaned.  “It was good.  For a while.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t even remember how it happened.  The inexorable slide.  He became more and more jaded, more and more power hungry, secretive.  I would have left then, but I stumbled across some of his files.  I realized he was involved with Hydra.  I decided to stay on, I don’t even know why.”  She looked up, meeting Steve’s gaze.

 

“Did you want to save him?” he asked quietly.

 

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.  At first.  But it never stopped.  It built and built and got deeper and deeper.  Nick wanted me out, but by that point I was too angry, too bitter.  I wanted Alex to pay for betraying me like that, for twisting the organization I founded, destroying the memory of -”  She stopped and took another drink.

 

“Pierce, told me about Bogota,” Steve said carefully.  “He never mentioned you.”

 

Peggy glanced at him.  “He hated you.  I assume you figured that out.”

 

“Yeah,” he said wryly.  “I figured that out.  Thanks.”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “In his defense, I might have called him Steve once or twice in bed  Three times, tops.”

 

Steve winced.

 

“On purpose,” she qualified.  “To piss him off.  It was after everything had already gone south.  The only thing left between us was our mutual desire to see each other burn in hell.”  She took another drink.  “Sorry about that,” she said earnestly.  “It’s probably why he sent most of Hydra after you.  Fragile ego.”

 

Steve shook his head, at a loss for words.  

 

“My pettiness ended up biting me in the ass,” she said quietly.  “The second I found out you were alive ...”  She shook her head, swallowing thickly. “I wanted to warn you, but Alex had me watched every second.  I finally decided the only thing I could do to keep you safe was to stay as far away from you as possible, stay as quiet as possible.”

 

“Peggy,” he said quietly, “I would have been a target regardless.  All of the Avengers, we were all on Hydra’s hit list.”

 

She looked up at him, holding his gaze.  “He sent  _ Bucky _ after you, Steve.”  She blinked quickly, fighting back tears.  “That had nothing to do with expediency or efficiency.  The Winter Soldier was good, but Alex made it personal.  He used Bucky to get to you because of me.”  She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand.  “That bastard.  I would have killed Alex.  Gladly.”  She sighed.  “Nick beat me to the punch.”

 

“Did you - “ Steve started and then fell silent.  He swallowed thickly.  “Did you know about Buck?”

 

Peggy looked at him.  “I swear to you, I didn’t.  Not until Alex sent him after Nick and you.  I promise you, Steve, I would have done everything - “

 

“I believe you,” Steve said, nodding.  “I do.”

 

Peggy sniffled loudly, screwing the lid back on the Scotch and setting it aside.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said softly, “that things went so sour between you and Pierce.”

 

She shrugged.  “Is it weird that I have more compassion for him now?” she asked thickly.  “I can sort of understand how it happens.  How intentions get twisted.”  She sighed.  “Until very recently, I had no idea how bitter and hateful I’d become.  I didn’t realize that the only thing keeping me moving forward was the desire for revenge.”

 

“What changed?”

 

She looked at him, and then away.  She stared into the fire.  “You, Steve,” she said quietly.  “As always, you’re the kind of person I aspire to be.  You remind me there’s more to life than hate.”

 

END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy woke up frowning.  Her mouth tasted like she’d been eating cigarette butts and her head was pounding.  She was on her side, not so much  _ in _ her sleeping bag as it was tangled around her.  Her nose was pressed against Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Are you alive?” he asked.

 

“Shhhhhh,” she hissed.  “Not so loud.”

 

He grunted and sat up.  She rolled over until she was face down on the rough wooden floor.  He nudged her in the hip with his toe.  “C’mon.”

 

She opened one eye and glared up at him.  He was holding a cup of coffee out to her.

 

Slowly, and with much complaining, Peggy pushed herself up into a sitting position.  Apparently assured she wasn’t going to topple over again, Steve handed her the coffee cup and then several painkillers.  She swallowed the painkillers dry and then took a sip of the coffee.  She coughed, which was excruciating.  “Jesus Christ,” she cursed.  “Are you trying to kill me?”

 

“Stop whining,” he said.  “It’s your own fault.  Get movin’, it’s already mid morning.”

 

Peggy glared at him, but knew that he was right.  She forced herself to take another drink of coffee.  Jesus.  Steve’s coffee.  How had she forgotten?  It was bad, even by wartime standards.  Now, it was drinkable only because she needed caffeine more than she needed oxygen.  She choked it down and forced herself to stand.  She still felt awful, but she was slowly improving.

 

She swiped the mostly empty bottle of Scotch off the table and Steve gave her a look.  She held a warning finger out to him as she took several long pulls off the bottle, before replacing the cap and putting it back on the table.  “Feel free to do your juice cleanses, Captain,” she said tartly, “I’ll stick with hair of the dog.”

 

She grabbed her bag and pulled out a change of clothes.  Steve took the opportunity to head outside to the vehicle, but she could hear him muttering under his breath about not doing juice cleanses and who did she think he was, Tony Stark?

 

Peggy changed and brushed her hair before taking a bottle of water and her toothbrush outside to brush her teeth.  How was she going to look at Steve today?  She had, unfortunately, not been drunk enough last night to black out.  She remembered everything she said to him.  She didn’t regret it, not really.  But she hated how raw she felt, exposed.

 

It wasn’t like she thought she could hide the fact from him that she had been married to Alex.  She was certain Rumlow would drop it into conversation as soon as he got the chance.  Better Steve hear it from the source and have time to digest the information.

 

By the time she climbed into the Land Rover, she was feeling mostly human.  But she was happy to let Steve drive.  If memory served, he drove like an old man.  She supposed, at least now, it was age appropriate behavior.

 

Peggy was not disappointed as Steve carefully picked his way along the deeply rutted roads.  Truthfully, she was grateful.  If he’d gone any faster, she probably would have been sick.  

 

“You said there’s a town down here, somewhere?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she replied.  “Word has it they’ve managed to salvage some items from the mess you and your friends and their rogue toys made.  I want to see what it is.”

 

* * *

 

 

To Steve, the town looked pretty much like every other Sokovian town he’d seen.  War torn and crushingly impoverished.  As they drove through the streets, people turned to watch.  Peggy asked him to pull over and she got directions from a group of men standing on a street corner smoking.  Steve couldn’t be certain from his angle, but he suspected that a good deal of her cleavage was on display.  The men were quite helpful.

 

The little workshop was on the outskirts of town.  It was nothing more than an old barn filled with junk.  Peggy put on a good show and talked them both inside.  She kept the owner busy while Steve looked around.  

 

Steve was standing in front of a long table mounded with mangled tech when Peggy joined him.  He looked over at her.  “This is Chitauri,” he said, nodding to the items.

 

Peggy nodded.  “Damaged beyond repair from the look of it.”  She glanced at him.  “Strucker had these.”

 

“So Hydra raided everything SHIELD confiscated from the Battle of New York?” he asked bitterly.

 

She said bluntly, “Yes.”  She sighed.  “I haven’t seen anything else of interest here, have you?”

 

He looked around a final time and shook his head.  “No.”

 

* * *

 

 

They were back at the cabin by early afternoon.  Looking at the site in daylight, it was actually rather idyllic.  The cabin didn’t have electricity or running water, but there was a hand pump well out back, and down a grassy hill there was a stream that emptied into a little pond.  The entire site was heavily wooded with enormous trees.

 

Steve started a fire in the fire pit outside, located in the clearing behind the cabin.  It was one of the few spots where grass grew and Peggy sat down, sunglasses firmly in place.  The ration packs were courtesy of Stark, so they were a far cry from MREs, but they still didn’t taste particularly good cold.  He stirred the first container, a mixture of rice and vegetables in sauce.  It was pretty good.  He offered some to Peggy.  She took several bites before handing it back to him and switching to a bland flatbread.  

 

He watched her as he heated up the rest of the food.  She was poring through the files she’d taken from the bunker.  The day was warm and sunny and there was a light breeze.  In another lifetime, it would have been perfect.  

 

Given the current circumstances, every bit of it was highly problematic.  

 

So why did Steve feel like he was back in that first day at Camp Lehigh every time he looked at Peggy?

 

Peggy ate another piece of flatbread, but declined everything else, so Steve finished it all off.  He stretched out in the grass, hands pillowed behind his head.  “What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked.

 

“Not much, I’m afraid,” she said absently.  She was still wearing her sunglasses and she’d commandeered Steve’s ballcap.  She looked up from her files toward him.  “We could head to Prague, but I’m not up for four hours in a vehicle with a sorry excuse for a suspension system.  I need to get to Paris, to a bank where Alex has a safety deposit box.  But the bank won’t be open again until the day after tomorrow.  Would you be terribly upset if we stay another day?”

 

He shrugged.  “I can’t say I’m in a hurry to get back and see Rumlow.”

 

Peggy groaned in agreement.  “It’s settled then.  We’ll leave tomorrow.  I’ll contact Zamir and see if he can arrange some faster transportation.”

 

“You can get enough service to Skype from here?”

 

She set the file down and looked at him.  “What?”

 

He shrugged.  “I just figured Zamir wasn’t going to agree to anything if he couldn’t look down your shirt while he was doing it.”

 

Peggy snorted.  “You are not one to judge, Captain,” she said.  “I’ve lost count of how many photos I’ve seen on Instagram of co-eds petting your chest.”

 

“It’s not the same,” he said, shaking his head.

 

“It’s exactly the same thing,” she replied.

 

Steve lay there for a while.  Peggy was content to read through the files.  He wasn’t bored exactly, more restless.  He pushed himself to his feet and headed down the hill.

 

“Where are you going?” she called.

 

“For a swim.”

 

She looked at him over the top of her sunglasses.  “Do you think that’s wise?”

 

He shrugged.  “Why not?”

 

“Well, I don’t know, heavy metal poisoning for one,” she replied tartly.

 

He waved her off.  “People live around here.  They’re fine.”

 

“We just saw the people who live around here,” she replied incredulously.  “None of them have any teeth, Steve.”

 

Steve continued down the hill, but he heard her say  _ idiot _ under her breath.  He stood at the edge, looking at the water, and had to admit to himself that her argument gave him pause.  He poked around the weeds at the edge of the pond.  There was plenty of plant life, and he could see little fish.  He found a frog.  It only had one head, and four feet.  Surely that was a good sign.  He took off his shirt and skimmed his jeans down his legs.  He was wearing a pair of black boxer briefs.  They’d be fine.  He jumped in.

 

Steve was floating on his back in the water half an hour later when he noticed Peggy standing at the water’s edge, her hand shading her eyes as she looked at him.  “Water’s great,” he called.

 

“You haven’t grown any extra parts yet, have you?” she asked.

 

“Why don’t you come in and check for yourself.”

 

He was smiling at his own joke when he heard a splash.  Peggy was nowhere to be seen, but there was a pile of what looked like  _ all _ of her clothes sitting on a rock at the water’s edge.  As he watched, she surfaced about a dozen feet from him.  The water was slightly murky, so he didn’t have the greatest view ever, but it was good enough.  He knew she wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

 

He shifted, moving so he was treading water.  Floating on his back probably wasn’t the greatest idea right now.  And the deeper in the water he got, the colder it was.  Which seemed like a good thing.

 

“You feeling better?” he asked.

 

“Much,” she said.  In a fluid motion, she rolled over onto her back.  Steve looked away.  Not that he didn’t have enough information from disparate sources to piece together what Peggy’s breasts must look like, but there was knowledge, and then there was direct evidence.  Direct evidence bobbing pertly in the water.  

 

“There was a water quality test kit with the gear,” she said conversationally.

 

“Oh really?” he asked, he glanced at her, and then away again.   _ Fucking Christ. _

 

“Water’s fine,” she said.

 

Steve made a noncommittal noise.  

 

Sighing, she took pity on him and rolled over, treading water with barely her head sticking out.  “I’d hate for a national treasure to drown on my account,” she said dryly.

 

“I wasn’t gonna drown.”

 

She rolled her eyes and then disappeared under the water.  She dove down and kicked out, splashing him.  He wiped his face off with his hand, waiting.  She finally surfaced near the shore. 

 

He watched her stand up in the shallows.  She was facing away from him, the water barely lapping at her hips.  She wrang out her hair and then stepped completely out of the water.  Steve knew he should look away.  But he didn’t.  She was tan everywhere.  He really didn’t want to know how she managed that.  Except that he did.

 

He watched as she took her time, patting herself dry with a towel she’d purloined from the hotel in Budapest.  When she was finished, she reached down and grabbed a t-shirt, pulling it over her head as she gathered up the rest of her clothes.  

 

It was his shirt.  

 

“Thanks, Pal,” he called.

 

She waved without looking at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy was leafing through files again when Steve finally made his way back up to the cabin.  She’d grabbed his sleeping bag out of the cabin and spread it out in the grass.  She hadn’t bothered to get dressed.  There didn’t seem to be much point.  No one else was here.  And he’d already seen all the goods, though it amused her to no end that he tried to look away.

 

He didn’t say anything as he lay down on the sleeping bag next to her.  He was wearing only his jeans, commando, she assumed, since they didn’t appear to be unreasonably damp.  She was eating an orange from their supplies and she absently handed him a piece, which he took without comment and ate.

 

Peggy flipped a page, comparing information.  She knew, when she found the title to the property, that this wasn’t a random acquisition for Alex.  That bunker had been his primary repository for secrets.  She was eager to know what the bugs found, but the few files she took were already proving worth the trip.  Alex had dirt on everyone.  And nothing middling.  It was solid intel, stuff that could burn nations to the ground.  His files on Carson, in particular, were going to prove invaluable, but Peggy was beginning to suspect she had more than enough information to take out nearly all of Hydra.  

 

She needed to get this intel to Nick soon.  But she also needed the contents of that safety deposit box.  Whatever it was, it was so valuable that Alex hadn’t trusted the bunker to be safe enough.  The contents had to be invaluable.

 

Peggy continued to share the orange with Steve as she read.  He was quiet, but he still seemed restless.  He’d been there for probably twenty minutes when he rolled over onto his side toward her.  His hand absently found its way to her knee.  

 

She didn’t react, partially because she was distracted with the files, and partially because she was rather done with giving him the time of day until he figured out what the hell he wanted.  She was too old for this shit - several times over.  She didn’t know how much more clear she could be about what she was offering.  She was certain he wanted her physically.  But she had the impression that it wasn’t enough.  He wanted more.  

 

What exactly  _ more _ entailed, she didn’t know.  And she suspected he didn’t know either.  She wished they could have sex and be done with it.  As previously noted, Steve was utter shite at lying, especially about what was between them.  

 

Peggy didn’t understand.  She’d seen enough of Steve’s publicity interviews after the Battle of New York to know that he was almost always putting on a show.  He had all these different personas he shrugged into as the situation demanded and some of them bore very little resemblance to the real Steve Rogers.  And yet, when it came to her, he couldn’t fake it.  Not enough to convince Rumlow or Ward.  Certainly not enough to convince Carson.  

 

All in all, their cover would be more solid if they fucked.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t had sex for the sake of a mission before.  It wasn’t like that hadn’t been the last fifteen years of her marriage to Alex.  She could fake it.  She could stow personal bullshit for the sake of the mission.  And hell, with Steve, she wouldn’t even have to fake the part where she wanted him.  

 

But Steve insisted on differentiating between the mission and  _ them _ .  

 

Peggy wasn’t sure anymore than she could tell the difference.  She wasn’t sure there was a difference.  She didn’t know where she ended and the mission began.  And more than that, aside from the mission, she had so little to offer him.  No future to speak of.  When she finally burned Hydra, she would most likely go down with the ship.

 

Steve’s hand ventured higher and she set the folder down in her lap, covering his hand as she reached over and grabbed one of the other folders, leafing through pages.  She compared the bank account numbers, flipping between the two files. They matched.   _ Shit _ .  She knew it.  Well, for all of Alex’s problems, he definitely knew how to compile a solid case.

 

Steve’s hand moved again, brushing against the edge of the t-shirt.  Still looking at the file, she said, “If that hand moves again, you better be prepared to seal the deal because I’m not in the mood to be jerked around again.”

 

His hand moved higher.  Putting down the file, she turned and looked down at him.  He was looking up at her.  “Maybe I want my shirt back,” he said.

 

In a fluid move, she grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it over her head, leaving her completely bare.  She balled up the shirt and tossed it at his head, covering his face.  With a huff, she lay down on the blanket on her side, facing away from him, reaching for the files again.

 

She knew he was moving, tossing the t-shirt aside.  He wasn’t touching her, not yet, but she could feel the heat of his body directly behind hers and her skin tingled with anticipation.  She was looking at the file.  It contained enough information to burn half of Hydra, but she found it wasn’t nearly as compelling as the fact that Steve was right behind her.

 

His hand touched her hip, his fingertips brushing over her heated skin, and her breath caught.

 

“I’m serious, Steve,” she said, doing her best to sound stern, “don’t start if you don’t plan to finish.”

 

He leaned in closer, pressing kisses along the top of her shoulder.  “I heard you,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

 

With a groan, she rolled over onto her back, reaching for him.  He captured her lips before she stopped moving, leaning over her, his hand roaming possessively down her side.  The skin to skin contact was enough to send her mind reeling.  She bit down on his bottom lip and then moved to his jaw, his neck.  She rolled him over onto his back and climbed on top of him.  His hands immediately found her breasts, and he shuddered as he cupped her gently.

 

She arched into the touch, moaning.  She looked down at him, her mouth open in a pant.  She was straddling him and even through his jeans, she could tell he was already hard.  She shivered and rocked her hips against him.  His breath came short and his eyes fluttered shut.  His thumbs brushed across the hard points of her nipples.

 

Peggy couldn’t remember the last time she had sex with someone solely because she wanted them, but  _ jesus _ , she wanted him.  She lifted herself off him, fumbling frantically with the button of his jeans.  She looked up at him, caught his eye.  “Slow next time,” she said.

 

He nodded.  He helped her then, carefully unzipping the fly and skimming the material down his legs until he could kick it away.  She grasped him carefully, stroking him from root to tip.  His breath hissed between his teeth and his eyes screwed shut.  Releasing him, she lowered herself, not onto him, not yet.  She rubbed herself against him, rocking back and forth.  God she was so wet, from only this.

 

The muscles of his neck were corded and he swallowed thickly.  “I don’t have anything on me,” he managed to say.  “They’re in the cabin.”

 

She arched against him, grinding down on him, biting down on her bottom lip.  “Do you have an infection I should know about?” she asked, concentrating on forming the words.

 

“No ma’am.”  His fingertips bit into her hips, guiding her, forcing her harder against him.

 

“Me either,” she managed.  “And I have an IUD.  We’re good.”  She didn’t wait for a reply, she lifted herself off him, then took him gently in hand and lowered herself down on him, moaning as she took him in.  She wasn’t sure he was breathing at all.  She leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head and dipped her head, kissing him deeply.

 

He said her name, his hands kneading at her hips.  She took the hint and started to move.  Fucking christ, she was keyed up.  She was at the edge already and they’d barely started.  “Pinch my nipples,” she said.

 

He didn’t move immediately, then she heard him curse under his breath and he cupped her breasts again, pinching her lightly.  

 

“Yes,” she hissed, arching into his touch and then slamming herself back down on him.  “ _ Harder _ .”  They moved like that, straining against one another, both beyond words.  True to her earlier words, Peggy couldn’t take it slow.  She drove both of them, rushing to the edge.

 

Her climax washed over her in a wave and she moaned his name.  She was vaguely aware of him cursing again, one hand still at her breast, the other grabbing her hip, holding her as he drove up into her hard, finding his own release.

 

When the moment passed, she collapsed against his chest.  Holy shit, were they sixteen?  This was ridiculous.  Carefully, she moved off of him, aware of the way his breath caught as he slipped free of her body.  She curled against his side and he immediately pulled her close, kissing her slowly, languidly, his hand cupping her jaw.

 

They lay like that for a long time, kissing, fingers and lips mapping topography.  The sun was starting to set, the sky a mix of reds, pinks and purples.  Peggy stretched out on her back and he leaned over her, his kisses becoming more insistent.  She could feel him, hard against her hip.

 

She urged him over her, wrapping her legs around his lean hips and he slid home with a single thrust.  She whispered his name and he made a pleased sound, punctuating it with a sharp thrust that had her shivering.

 

They took their time, cataloging, experimenting.  His strength and flexibility certainly opened up several new avenues of exploration for her.  And he wasn’t hesitant to try new things.  But Peggy was very aware that he was constantly looking to her, needing to assure himself that she was finding pleasure.  If she didn’t, he immediately changed tactics.  It was thrilling and scary.  Peggy couldn’t remember the last time she actually connected with her partner.

 

By the time they were both spent, it was dark and bugs were starting to be an issue.  They retreated inside the cabin and Steve built a fire in the hearth.  They shared their food, talking when they felt the need, but neither of them inclined to fill the silence with words.  It was comfortable, intimate, fragile.

 

When the fire burned low, they curled up together in a nest made of both sleeping bags, but it was a long time before either of them succumbed to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The early morning light was streaming through the cabin windows by the time Steve finally rolled away, both of them trying to catch their breaths.  Peggy stretched languidly.  “Well, that was certainly a preferable wake up to your coffee,” she said.

 

He made a noncommittal noise, but she was certain he agreed too, even if he was offended at her dig at his coffee brewing skills.

 

She pushed herself to her feet, shrugging into his t-shirt again.  She made coffee.  When that was done, she took the towel and headed outside to the well in back.  It was not pleasant.  The water was freezing.  But she had to make herself at least moderately presentable.  Zamir knew she was never going to sleep with him.  But she doubted he’d appreciate if she showed up with Steve on her arm, looking and smelling freshly fucked, so she did her best.  She knew she had whisker burn on her neck and chest, and probably some love bites as well.  There wasn’t anything she could do about that.

 

Steve was up and dressed when she got back to the cabin.  Peggy quickly changed and then started repacking.  They were leaving with considerably more than they brought with them to Budapest, so she had to consolidate bags.  She was emptied one of the backpacks and rolled it up, shoving it in Steve’s jump bag when she saw the box of condoms.  

 

She looked over at him, eyebrow arched and held it up.  “So, does Natasha know your preferred brand, or did she have to guess?” she asked, hating herself for being petty, but unable to stop.

 

He looked at her, tight lipped and crossed the room to her.  He plucked the box out of her grip and tossed it back in the bag.  “She guessed,” he said, meeting and holding her gaze.  “And I don’t have a preferred brand.”

 

She looked at his expression, tight, a little nervous, a little embarrassed.  He looked and sounded exactly the way he had in the back of that car, driving through Brooklyn all those years ago.   _ The last few years, it didn’t seem to matter that much.  Figured I’d wait. _

 

“ _ Steve, _ ” she said softly.  She reached out, cupped his cheek and kissed him so gently.  His arms immediately went around her, pulling her close.  Things were heating up and she groaned, breaking off the kiss.  “We can’t,” she said remorsefully.  “We have to meet Zamir.”

 

He frowned and she kissed him again, biting down on his bottom lip.  She pulled back and looked at him.  “You could have told me,” she said gently.

 

He looked away, grunting, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

 

* * *

 

 

Zamir was as much of a troll as she expected him to be.  But he arranged a private plane to Prague and from there Peggy used another contact to get them to Paris.  Flying commercial wasn’t really an option now that Steve had his shield in tow.  She wasn’t going to try and get that through security.  

 

Steve didn’t say much on the trip, but as they finally checked into the hotel and tossed their bags down, he reached for her.  It was madness, this frantic desire for one another.  She’d forgotten what it could feel like, how strong it could be.  She wasn’t willing to examine whether or not it had ever felt quite this strong with another partner.

 

Later, they ordered room service, a ton of it.  They took a proper shower, together, while they waited.  When they food finally arrived, they practically inhaled it, leaving nothing but crumbs and a mound of dishes.  

 

Peggy was sitting on the bed, wearing only one of Steve’s undershirts.  Picking at a chocolate confection, she scrolled through the digitized files from Alex’s bunker on her tablet.  She made a quick call to Nick and sent him the files via an encrypted channel.

 

“I think this is it,” she told him.  “Make the arrangements you need for a final raid, but this information should do it.”

 

“When are you back on American soil?” Nick asked.

 

“Two days, tops,” she said.  “Alex has a safety deposit box at a bank here that I want to clean out, but then we’re on our way back.  We’ll need transportation.”

 

“On it,” Nick said.  “I’ll send you the details.  See you in a few.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy finally finished the chocolate and set the plate on the tray with the rest of the dishes.  Settling herself on the bed, she studied the files again.  Only a minute or two later, Steve shifted, lying perpendicular to her on the bed, his head against her thigh.  Absently, she reached over and carded her fingers through his hair, earning an appreciative noise from him.

 

Setting the tablet aside, she looked at him and he met her gaze and held it for a long moment.  Looking away, he shifted, rolling over onto his stomach, pillowing his head on her abdomen and throwing an arm around her hips.  

 

He wasn’t saying anything.  And she knew he was purposely  _ not _ saying anything.  She felt frustrated, irrationally irritated.  He wasn’t pressuring her for anything.  He wasn’t demanding.  He wasn’t even asking.

 

But she knew he wanted more.  And she didn’t have anything to offer him other than what they already shared.  

 

Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly.  She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, then traced down his neck and across his shoulders.  He was so warm, so responsive, his skin twitching under her touch.  His arm tightened around her hips and he burrowed against her, rather reminding her of some of her favorite childhood fairytales.  The dragon guarding its hoard of gold.  She understood the feeling, that desire to protect him, to keep him close now that she finally had him.  They would have another day, and night.  And then it would be back to the States, back to the war.  And its aftermath.

 

For a little while at least, she could give herself over to this madness.  It might be the only chance she ever had with Steve.

* * *

 

 

“ _ Peggy _ ,” Steve whimpered, his fingers twining through her hair.  She shifted her weight, placing most of it on her forearms, which were braced against his hips, holding him down.  She licked her lips and took him in her mouth again, bobbing her head deeper, taking more of him.

 

With a muffled cry, he came, his back arching.  She swallowed him down and then pushed herself up on all fours, watching him.  

 

He blinked slowly, staring dazedly at the ceiling before his gaze flicked to her.  He was still sleep rumpled and warm, his face rough with stubble and his hair in disarray.  Warm morning light was filtering through the windows.

 

“Good morning,” she said with a smile.

 

He gave her a dazed look, full of wonder.  Sitting up, he grabbed her, pulling her close and kissing her deeply.  He groaned at the taste of himself in her mouth and toppled her back on the bed, kissing his way down her body.  “Teach me,” he said.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve waited in the cafe across the street while Peggy accessed Alex’s safety deposit box.  The banker showed her to a private room and left her with the box.  She opened it cautiously, unsurprised to see it contained files.  Or rather one large accordion file, banded with an elastic closure.  The file was old and worn, obviously well used.

 

Carefully, she removed the contents.  Her breath caught uncomfortably as she flipped through page after page.  There were files, photos, several flash drives.  One of the envelopes contained microfiche.  The documents went back eighty years and the records were exhaustive.

 

Swallowing harshly, she repacked the file and grabbed her sweater.  Alex was nothing if not thorough.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve fell into step with her as she exited the bank.  They made their way back to the hotel.  Peggy had a half dozen messages from Nick.  He agreed with her assessment of the files from the bunker.  Alex’s information was incredibly useful.  Nick was getting things in place for four simultaneous raids on Hydra compounds.  

 

Nick suggested, without coming right out and saying it, that Peggy stay away.  As tempting as the idea was, she couldn’t do it.  Hydra was her mess and she was going to see it through, regardless of the consequences.  She knew Steve didn’t understand.  For as world weary as he had grown since they chopped him out of the ice, she knew he still saw her as Agent Carter.  He hadn’t seen the years she spent at Alex’s side, the multitude of ways she’d compromised herself.  She’d tried to tell Steve, but she knew he didn’t understand.  He wanted to pick up where they left off with their doomed radio conversation.  And it wasn’t possible.

 

Steve didn’t say anything as she opened the door to the hotel room.  He was withdrawn.  He had been since yesterday.  He didn’t shy away from her.  If she touched him or initiated anything physical, he immediately responded.  But he was quiet, his features drawn.  

 

“I’m sorry we haven’t found anything on Barnes yet,” she said, knowing that the Winter Soldier was far from the only reason Steve was upset.  “I know Alex used him at least twice, but I don’t think he was directly involved with him otherwise.”

 

Steve nodded, taking a seat on the end of the bed and staring at the floor.  “From what Nat found, it sounds like Bucky was based out of Russia.”

 

“Yes,” Peggy agreed.  She set her bag down on the small desk and shrugged out of her sweater.  She toed out of her shoes too and then pulled her shirt over her head.  Steve watched her.

 

She closed the distance between them.  As she straddled him, his hands found her hips, guiding her down against him.  She kissed him and he returned it eagerly.

 

END CHAPTER


	4. Chapter 4

They spent all afternoon in bed.  Steve, for all his inexperience, was an incredibly fast study.  And from a purely physical perspective, he put any previous lover she’d ever had to shame.  

 

She also wanted him more, and cared for him more, than any of her previous lovers.  She tried not to dwell on that.

 

They lay together on the bed, naked, limbs twined together.  All of the sheets and blankets had long ago been pushed to the floor.  The sun was beginning to set and there were long shadows tracing along the wall.

 

“What was in the safety deposit box?” Steve asked.

 

“More ammunition,” Peggy said quietly.

 

“Stuff Fury can use?”

 

She chuckled darkly.  “Oh, I’m sure it’s information he would be happy to have.”

 

Steve pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at her.  “What is it?”

 

She met his gaze.  “Me,” she said, looking away.  “It’s all of the incriminating information Alex compiled against me over the years.  All my weaknesses and pressure points.”

 

Steve looked over at the bag on the desk.

 

“All my sins, cataloged in descending order of severity,” she said.  “It was rather enlightening, actually.  Some of it I had completely forgotten about.  Others I definitely remembered differently than they were presented in his files.  But as always, Alex makes a strong case.  It’s more than enough to destroy any hint of legitimacy I might have.  And several of them serve no purpose other than to be humiliating.  I suppose I should be grateful that Nick killed him before he found a reason to use them.”

 

Steve was quiet, but eventually asked, “Are you okay?”

 

She shrugged.  “I can’t change any of it.  But still, it’s unsettling to see it all compiled in such a way.”

 

“Peggy,” he said quietly, pressing closer, his touch comforting rather than demanding.

 

A lifetime of experience told her to push him away, but when she turned and looked into his eyes, she found she didn’t want to.  He leaned in and she kissed him gently.

 

* * *

 

 

Nick arranged for the private flight back to the US.  The jet was nice.  Not as nice as the one Alex used, but Peggy had no intention of bringing that up with Nick.

 

Peggy had sifted through as much of Alex’s files as she could manage.  She left the rest to Nick and whatever indexing algorithms Stark had devised.  They had more than enough information to issue dozens of warrants.

 

Peggy ended the call with Nick and frowned.

 

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked.

 

Taking a deep breath, she told him what she knew.  She would return to Hydra’s base in Manhattan, maintaining cover.  The raids would happen tomorrow morning, aiming to take out as much of Hydra as numerous American intelligence agencies could manage, in one fell swoop.

 

“And me?” he asked.

 

“Fury wants you at the Tower.  The Avengers will be part of the raids.  Stark and Natasha have been briefed in full.  The others are being brought in as quickly as Fury can manage.  I doubt your lovely alien friend is going to make it, but everyone else should be there.”

 

“What’s the reason I’m not with you?”

 

She arched an eyebrow.  “Lover’s quarrel.”

 

He sighed and she found she couldn’t look at him.  “Peg,” he said quietly, “if I’m not there, Rumlow is going to know something is up.”

 

She looked at him.  He had a point.  The truth was, she, not Nick, was the one who wanted Steve at the Tower.  She didn’t want him to have to see what was going to happen to her.  Both for herself, and for him.  She shrugged.  “It’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

 

“No,” he said, “it’s not.  It’s a stupid risk.  I’m going with you.”

 

Peggy pushed herself out of her seat and moved over to him.  She straddled him and he looked up at her, his expression unreadable.  She leaned down to kiss him and he turned his head.  

 

She sucked in a sharp breath and moved back.  “Not in the mood, Captain?”

 

“I want you,” he said evenly.  “Very much.  But I’m getting a little tired of you using sex to avoid talking to me.”

 

She tried to move off him and he caught her hips in his hands.  He looked up at her.  “Talk to me, Peggy.  I’m right here.”

 

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed until he released her.  She moved back to her seat, crossing her legs and looking at him.  “What would you like me to say, Steve?”

 

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.  “Hell if I know.  But I don’t understand what’s going on between us.  I mean, the sex is fantastic.  But any time we’re not going at it, you seem like you’re angry with me and I don’t know why.”

 

“I’m not angry with you,” she snapped.  “Don’t be absurd.”

 

He looked at her helplessly and she knew she was being awful.  But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. The truth was, she wanted him as much as he claimed to want her.  But Peggy knew what the future held.  And declarations on either side would only make things more difficult on everyone.

 

He took a deep breath.  “What happens to us after tomorrow?  After Hydra is taken down?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He sighed.  “You know what I mean, Peggy.  Is there anything between us beyond the mission?  Is there any  _ us?” _

 

“Steve - “ she stared, though she had no idea what she was going to say next.  She was spared having to come up with something by her phone ringing.  She turned away, answering it.  It was Nick again.

 

Peggy devised to spend the rest of the flight indisposed.  She knew Steve was irritated, if not outright angry.

 

* * *

 

 

It was already evening when the car met them at the airport and took them to Peggy’s condo.  She still had no idea what to say to Steve.  She knew he was frustrated and the truth was she had no answer for him that was going to make him happy.  He couldn’t change her fate and she had no intention of letting him try.

 

Peggy threw her bag down on the bed and turned to him.  “I’m going to order food.”

 

“Yeah.  Fine,” he said.  “I need to go out.  I’ll be back.”

 

It was on the tip of Peggy’s tongue to ask him where he was going, but she didn’t.  While she waited on the food, she unpacked.  There was a knock on the door and it was Barton, who looked much better than she would have expected.  She let him in and gave him the hard copy files she had.  All of them.  There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she turned them over, but she had little choice.  They wouldn’t be safe, not with her, not after tomorrow.

 

Clint had just walked out the front door when Steve stepped off the elevator.  They nodded to each other in greeting.  Steve stepped past Peggy into the apartment.  She gave Barton a final nod before closing the door.

 

Steve stood in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips.  He took a deep breath.  “I love you,” he said, firmly.

 

Peggy blinked at him dumbly.  “I, um.  Pardon?”

 

He frowned at her.

 

“I, uh.”  She took a deep breath.  “Steve - “

 

Her phone rang.  She answered it.  It was the food.  “One moment,” she said to Steve, heading for the door, eternally grateful for the reprieve.

 

The ride down to the lobby and back up gave her time to think.  But she was still no closer to having a response.  At least not the one she assumed Steve wanted.

 

Steve was waiting, pretty much, exactly where she had left him.  He’d taken off his jacket.  She closed the door and set the bag of food on the kitchen counter.

 

She pursed her lips together and took a deep breath.  “Steve,” she said quietly.  “I understand that the last several days have been very intense - “

 

“I’ve been in love with you since 1943,” he said evenly.  He wasn’t petulant.  He didn’t even sound angry anymore.  He just sounded tired.  And disappointed.

 

She blinked at him and then found she had to look away.  As if she needed any more confirmation that this was a terrible idea, she’d literally just given Barton a folder full of reasons.  All her crimes.  All her hubris and vanity and weakness, cataloged by the man she married but never loved.  

 

Steve sighed, shaking his head.  He stepped past her to the kitchen counter and started unpacking the food.  Wordlessly, Peggy got out plates and they both sat at the table, chewing mechanically.  Together, they cleaned up the kitchen and then Steve started sorting through his jump bag.

 

Peggy went into the bedroom and pulled a nightshirt out of the drawer, heading for the bathroom.  She was exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically.  By the time she exited the bathroom, the rest of the condo was dark.  She glanced out the bedroom door and saw Steve on the couch, turned away from the bedroom.  

 

She had told him the cover was a lover’s quarrel.  She guessed that much was true.  Part of her wanted to invent some reason for him to come to bed, but she didn’t.  What would be the point?  The op would be over tomorrow.  Their cover would be unnecessary.

 

Peggy checked her messages, replied to a handful of missives from Fury and turned out the light.  To her shock, sleep came soon.

 

* * *

 

 

She woke to the sound of Steve in the shower.  It was still dark, but she pushed herself out of bed.  She pulled on clothes and made coffee.  When Steve was done in the shower, she went back into the bathroom and did her hair and makeup, put on some lightweight body armor.  The usual.  

 

Steve was waiting in the livingroom when she exited the bedroom.  “Ready?”

 

She double checked her pistol and nodded.

 

He turned, putting his hand on the door.  She stopped him, her arm on his shoulder.  She tugged at him until he relented, turning to face her.

 

Looking up at him, she still wasn’t sure what to say.  She took a deep breath.  “Be careful today,” she said quietly.

 

He nodded, looking down at her.  “You too.”

 

She started to push herself up on her tiptoes, but stopped.  Then she did again before she could talk herself out of it.  She cupped his jaw gently in her hand, turning his face toward her and she kissed him.  

 

He kissed her back, hard.  He backed her against the wall and his hands roamed over her body.  He finally pulled away, breathing hard.  He touched her cheek gently.  He started to say something and then stopped.  Carefully, he released her and stepped back.  

 

Taking a breath, she straightened her clothes and reached for the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve pulled Peggy around the corner and immediately curled in on her, covering her with his body.  She heard the bullets hit the shield, felt Steve’s body shake with the force of the impact.  In a blink, he twisted, throwing the shield, taking out the shooters.  

 

He shoved something at her and she looked down at the bulletproof vest. “Put it on,” he snapped, distracted as he scanned the hallway.

 

Peggy yanked the jacket on, pulling the velcro closures tight.  The entire complex was in chaos.  There were CIA and FBI agents on site, rounding up Hydra operatives.  Peggy already heard from Nick that Carson and Ward were in custody.

 

“This way,” Peggy said, kicking open the stairwell door, gun in hand.  She charged ahead, assuming Steve was following, but not bothering to stop and check.  They had to find Rumlow.  He could not get away.

 

There were two Hydra operatives in the stairwell.  Peggy clipped the first in the thigh and bashed the second’s head against the railing until he stopped moving.  She sprinted up the two remaining flights of stairs and pushed through the door into the hallway.  It was quiet and dark.  They’d killed the power.  

 

Steve stepped into the hallway behind Peggy.  Their eyes met for a moment and she nodded down the hall.  The command room was at the end of the hall.

 

Peggy rounded the corner and Rumlow was standing there, in the middle of the room, watching her with a smug grin.

 

“‘Bout time,” he said.

 

Peggy took another step into the room and Steve’s hand fell on her shoulder like a vice, stopping her in her tracks.  “Peg.”

 

She saw.  Rumlow had a bomb.

 

He shook his head.  “Man, I always knew you were a bitch,” he swore.  He pointed a finger at her.  “I told Pierce.  I told him.  ‘Kill ‘er.”  He shook his head in disgust.  “Old man wouldn’t do it.”

 

“Yes, pity that,” Peggy said dryly.  There was so much intel here.  And there were still so many agents in the building.  If she could distract Rumlow, keep him talking.

 

“Don’t worry,” Rumlow said with a wink.  “I got it covered.”

 

Rumlow’s hand twitched and his brow immediately furrowed.  He looked down at his hands, his face contorting with rage.

 

“Wanda?” Steve bellowed.

 

Wanda stepped from behind a desk on the far side of the room, her hands swirling with red, the same red that seemed to be encompassing Rumlow.  It was clear Wanda was struggling to contain the blast.

 

“ _ Steve _ ,” Wanda called, her voice shaky, her face contorted with effort.

 

Peggy was vaguely aware of Wanda using her powers to toss Rumlow toward the plate glass windows, like a ragdoll.  Steve grabbed Peggy, pulling her behind him, and his shield.  The blast was deafening.

 

END CHAPTER


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL the Civil War spoilers. All of them.

Peggy coughed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.  She knew she looked awful, covered in dirt and dust from the explosion.  She had numerous scrapes on her face and the knuckles of her left hand were bloody.  

 

Peggy wasn’t certain how all of the injuries had occurred.  Things had been a jumble during the explosion.  A she knew is that if Steve and Wanda hadn’t been there, she would have been dead.

 

“How many casualties?” Peggy asked.

 

Nick’s expression was grim.  “They’re still counting,” he said.  “At least a dozen, with a dozen more missing.”

 

“Shit,” Peggy cursed, leaning back in her chair.  They were in one of the conference rooms at the Tower.  Most of the Avengers were present, Steve, Stark, Romanoff, Wilson, and the girl, Wanda.  Rhodes was present as well, sticking to the back, watching.

 

“Even with the casualties, the op was still a success,” Nick said.  “You took down Hydra.”

 

Peggy frowned, unconvinced.  “Another attack in Manhattan with significant casualties.  You know no one is going to call it a success.”

 

“Yeah,” Nick said grimly.  “Probably not.”  He took a deep breath, looking pointedly at Peggy.  “Ross is en route.”  He glanced at Steve.

 

“Ross?” Stark asked.  He’d removed his Iron Man attire.  He was wearing a worn t-shirt, stained with sweat, and his hair was in disarray.  Peggy couldn’t help but think how much he looked like his father.

 

“Secretary of State Ross,” Nick clarified.

 

Stark nodded, lips pursed together.  He glanced over at Rhodes.

 

Peggy watched Stark closely.  “You don’t seem shocked.”

 

He opened his mouth and then closed it again, sighing.  “I know Ross has been spearheading a coalition of concerned nations.  They’ve wanted to put the Avengers in check for a while.  I suspect we’ve just given them a very good reason to put their plan in action.”

 

“The Avengers?” Peggy scoffed.  “This was Hydra’s doing.”

 

“Yeah, well, with Wanda’s light show - “ Stark started, waggling his fingers.

 

“Wanda?” Steve snapped incredulously.  “Are you seriously going to try and put this on her?”

 

“I’m not putting anything on anyone,” Stark clarified.  “I’m just giving you the lay of the land.”

 

“Sir,” FRIDAY announced, “Secretary of State Ross has arrived.”

 

Nick looked pointedly at Stark.  Nick motioned with his hands for everyone to stand.  He looked at Peggy and Steve, shaking his head.  “Not you two.”   He motioned everyone else out of the conference room.  

 

As Stark exited, he touched the glass, causing it to frost over, giving Peggy and Steve privacy.

 

Peggy looked over at Steve.  His lips were pursed together, but he looked more worried than angry.  “What’s going on, Peggy?”

 

“I already told you,” she said quietly.  “My sins.  A lifetime of them.  Maybe more.”

 

Steve’s brow furrowed.  “Are you saying that Ross is coming here _for you_?”

 

She gave him a tight smile.  “That’s the safe bet.  I doubt he’ll stop with me, but I’m the low hanging fruit, the easy first target.”

 

Steve pushed himself to his feet.  “Over my dead - “

 

“No,” Peggy snapped, shaking her head.  “No, absolutely not, Steve.  This does not concern you.  You will not get involved.”

 

“Doesn’t concern me?” he countered.  “How could this possibly not concern me?”

 

“How blunt do you want me to be?” she asked, rather more harshly than was probably necessary.  “We slept together, Steve.  That hardly entitles you to a say in the proceedings.  Ross is here because of the action I took over the course of my very long lifetime.  The last week does not give you a stake in this fight.”

 

He took a deep breath, his jaw set.  “Is it a fight then?” he asked.  “Because it sounds to me like you’re just going to roll over.”

 

Peggy crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, shaking her head.  “What would I have to gain from fighting this?”

 

“Right,” Steve said bitterly, “what reason could you possibly have to not want to rot in one of Ross’s holding cells?  Who on Earth might possibly be upset if that happened?”

 

She looked at him, frowning.

 

He sighed, shaking his head.  “I know you think I’m naive, or desperate or whatever.  But I do love you.  For whatever that’s worth.  And I am not okay with this.”

 

Slowly, carefully, Peggy pushed herself to her feet.  She took the several steps to close the distance between herself and Steve.  She reached out, resting her hands on his chest.  She could feel the coiled tension in his body.

 

“Please, Steve,” she said in a near whisper.  “Do not start a fight with Ross.  Not over me.”

 

He looked down at her, his expression stormy.

 

She shook her head, frowning.  “I’m the tip of the iceberg.  Ross won’t stop with me.  You’ll need every bit of political capital you have.  Siding with me right now will only drag you down.  I’m dead weight.”

 

“This is a witch hunt, Peggy,” he said vehemently.  “You’re the reason we took Hydra down today.  You’re the reason it took them seventy years to dare venture into the open.  You’ve fought this fight alone for longer than Ross has been alive.  The idea of him punishing you for anything is more than enough for me to want to start a war.”

 

She reached up, cupping his face in her hands.  He was breathing hard, obviously upset.  “Please,” she whispered.  “Please, Steve.  Don’t.”

 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.  “I have been so lost, Peggy.  I finally found my touchstone and now Ross is taking you away.”

She kissed him gently.  

 

“Ms. Carter,” FRIDAY said, “your presence is being requested in the atrium.”

 

“Yes, thank you,” Peggy said, still wrapped in Steve’s arms.

 

He took a deep, shuddering breath.  “Tell me you don’t love me.”

 

She looked up at him, shaking her head.  “Steve.”

 

“Tell me,” he said tightly.  “If it’s true, then just tell me.”

 

It would be kinder, she knew, to tell him.  Better he have the moment of pain and disappointment, than the agony of having it drawn out.  Ross was spoiling for a war.  Peggy had known this for years.  And he wouldn’t think of going through Steve to accomplish his ends.

 

But looking up at Steve, she couldn’t do it.  Because she did love him.  She always had.  If anything, she loved him more now than before.

 

“Please stay out of it,” she begged.

 

She could see the look of satisfaction on his features, mixed with grim determination.  She looked away.  “ _Shit_.”

 

He held her tighter.  “I love you too,” he said, his lips against her hair.

 

* * *

 

 

“Please,” Peggy said, “putting her palm against the middle of his chest.  “I need you to stay here.”

 

“Why?” he demanded, irritated.  He could see Ross in the atrium with a dozen armed agents.

 

“Because I need to be strong when I do this, not a sobbing mess,” she said quietly.  “And if I have to do this in front of you, I’m not going to be able to keep it together.”

 

He took a deep breath and released it sharply, frowning.  “I hate this,” he said.  “It’s not right.”

 

She gasped his hand tightly, squeezing it.  “Please stay out of it.”

 

Steve watched as she pushed through the doors and walked toward Ross, back perfectly straight, head high.  For one moment, it looked like Ross had second thoughts, but he quickly regrouped.  Fury was there and he was speaking to Ross, angry.  

 

Steve watched as the agents put handcuffs on Peggy.  It took everything he had to stay where he was.  

 

He watched as they led her away.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m sure you all understand the gravity of this situation,” Ross was saying.

 

“Where is she?” Steve demanded.

 

Ross frowned, angry at having been interrupted.  “Captain I understand that this may be difficult for you,” he said.  “I know that you and Ms. Carter had a close working relationship for a number of years.”

 

“Where.  Is.  She.”  Steve said, enunciating as clearly as he could.  He was vaguely aware of Natasha shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

 

“Carter is being moved to a secure location,” Ross said flatly.  “She isn’t your concern.”

 

“With all due respect, Mr. Secretary,” Steve said.  “I’ll decide what’s my concern and what isn’t.”

 

Ross was angry, but undaunted.  He forged ahead, talking about the Accords, about the fact that a few very powerful men had decided that the Avengers were a problem and needed to be put on a leash, all the while saying it was for the good of the world.  He had a movie he played, designed to dismantle Wanda’s psyche.  

 

“Enough,” Steve said flatly.

 

Ross finally left, giving them a deadline to comply.  

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was alone in the atrium when Fury approached him, holding out a smart screen.

 

“What is this?” Steve asked.  He tapped the screen and at a glance, understood what it was.  He looked at Fury.  “Why are you showing me this?  I know she gave you these for safekeeping.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Fury said.  “And like you, she thinks she knows every damn thing.  What did she tell you they were?”

 

“She said they were her sins,” Steve said quietly.  “Weaknesses, pressure points, cataloged by Pierce.”

 

“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it, but there’s a whole other perspective too.  One I thought you should probably have.”  Fury shook his head.  “She was my mentor.  My friend.  And to see her hang it all up like this - “  He frowned.  “Nearly eighty years as an active agent,” he said.  “Nobody else can even begin to touch that record.  A world war, the cold war, countless other wars and black book ops.  She definitely has blood on her hands, Cap.  But I think you should see the things she regards as unforgivable.”

 

“If she’d wanted me to see them, she would have shown them to me,” he said.

 

“Maybe,” Fury said, unconcerned.  “Or maybe you should just man up and take a look, regardless of what she said.”  He turned and walked away, leaving Steve alone.

 

Steve stared at the smart screen.  Peggy’s sins.  Her weaknesses and pressure points.  Looking at them felt like a violation.  But maybe Fury was right.  Maybe Steve did need to understand what was so horrible it made her think that Ross had a right to lock her away.

 

He walked over to one of the couches and sat down.  Slowly, he began flipping through pages.  

 

He hadn’t gotten very far before he found it impossible to read the words on the screen through the tears.  With a sigh, he set the screen aside, cradling his head in his hands.  “Dammit, Peggy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy had no idea how long she had been here.  There were no windows, no routine, nothing she could use to gauge the passage of time reliably.  She knew where she was, in the broadest sense.  She’d seen plans for this technical marvel of a prison before the fall of SHIELD.  She suspected they were somewhere in the north Atlantic.  

 

It seemed rather fitting that the place which was Steve’s resting place for so long should now be hers.

 

She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought of Steve.  She knew better than to think that he might be able to forget her, to move on.  If it had ever been in his nature, it certainly wasn’t now, after he’d lost so much.  

 

Peggy’s arrest had been the opening volley in a war that Ross may have started, but Steve would undoubtedly finish.  She just prayed Steve didn’t lose too much of himself along the way.

 

They questioned her, at length, after sleep deprivation and mild physical tortures.  Peggy doubted there was really any information she possessed that they wanted.  They knew most of what she knew.  The bottom line was that she was too much of a liability to live.  It was simply a question of when they would end her, how much use they could make of her death.

 

She heard rumblings among the guards, a snippet here, a whisper there.  She knew Steve was quickly becoming a significant thorn in Ross’s side.  She doubted that Ross wanted to add any more fuel to Steve’s fire.  So Peggy assumed she was safe, for now at least.  They would seek to discredit her, to break Steve by dismantling her legacy.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sometimes I want to punch you in your perfect teeth,” Tony swore.  He looked at Steve, shaking his head.  He stood up abruptly, turning away.  

 

Tony was on board with Ross, or at the very least, with the ideology Ross was espousing.  Apparently Pepper had broken it off with Tony.  A break, Tony called it.

 

Steve couldn’t help but be amused that Pepper leaving Tony made him want to comply, while Peggy being incarcerated only cemented Steve’s resolve to fight.  How the tables had turned.

 

They all turned as the CCTV feed changed.

 

_Buck_.

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re on our own,” Steve said.

 

Sam took a deep breath.  “Maybe not.  I know a guy.”

 

Steve nodded, watching as Sam walked away to make the call.  Steve sat down, looking at Buck, frowning.  What a nightmare.  An army of programmable operatives with capabilities like him and Bucky.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy looked up, watching as they led her fellow inmates in, one at a time.  The girl, Wanda, looked awful.  She was terrified, heavily restrained and likely sedated.

 

Peggy listened, catching more snippets.  Steve was now an outright fugitive, on the run with Barnes.  As Wilson was led in, their eyes met and they watched each other.  There was another one, Lang, who Peggy didn’t know.  She wished like hell he would shut up.  And then Barton.  They nodded to one another.

* * *

 

 

It couldn’t have been much later when Stark arrived.  She saw the flicker, heard his conversation with Wilson.  

 

Peggy cursed under her breath, smacking her head back against the wall of her cell as she watched Stark leave.  She had a very good idea of the trap Zemo wanted to spring.  In her mind, Peggy cursed Howard.  

 

She knew that Howard’s relationship with his son had been rocky.  And she knew that right now, Tony was in a precarious position emotionally.  His partner had broken things off, Rhodes had been grievously injured.  She knew Tony viewed Steve’s stance as a personal rejection.

 

And now Steve, Tony and Barnes were all walking into a trap nearly eighty years in the making.  And none of them were going to walk away unscathed.

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy knew, by the things that weren’t said, that Steve and Barnes were still on the run.  They were fugitives, but they were free, at least for now.  Peggy had never felt such relief.

 

The days blurred together.  Ross took out his frustrations on her for a while.  Peggy took it all and gave him nothing.  

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha handed the printout to Steve.  He looked up at her, his eyebrows pulling together.  “Is this right?”

 

Natasha nodded.

 

He swallowed thickly, his eyes glassy.  He shook his head, jaw clenched, clearly steeling his resolve.  “We’re going to get them out of there.”

 

“Ross’s prison?” Bucky asked.

 

“Yeah,” Natasha said.

 

“ _All_ of them, Nat,” Steve said meaningfully.

 

“Yeah,” she said.  “I know.  All of them.”

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha watched the clock as the cells were opened.  Wilson first, then Barton, followed by Wanda and Lang.  Barton immediately cut Wanda out of the restraints, pulling her close.  Wilson clapped Steve on the shoulder and nodded to Bucky.

 

Steve stood where he was, watching as the last cell finally opened.

 

“Hey, who _is_ she?” Lang asked, looking at Wilson.

 

Carter stepped out of the cell, giving Steve a steady look that he returned.  She closed the distance and pushed up on tiptoe, hands braced on his shoulders as she kissed him.  His reaction was immediate, pulling her hard against his body.  He whispered something to her and her arms went around his neck.

 

“Peggy Carter,” Bucky said, frowning, answering Lang’s question, clearly as confused as Lang.

 

“I’m assuming she’s his girlfriend,” Lang offered.

 

“Sure looks that way,” Barton replied.  He looked at the others.  “How about we get the hell out of here now.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you again for your hospitality, your highness,” Peggy said.

 

King T’Challa nodded, giving her a small smile.  He turned down the hall.

 

Steve stepped closer.  She wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into him.  Barton and Wanda looked away, turning and retreating into their own rooms.  Natasha was pretending to be distracted.  Wilson and Barnes stood there watching, looking caught between being proud of Steve and protective of him.  

 

While Peggy understood the feeling, she wasn’t in the mood.  Grabbing Steve’s hand, she pulled him toward her room, closing the door firmly behind them.

 

Steve sat down on the bed, looking up at her.  “I’m glad you came with us,” he said quietly.  “After how determined you were to atone for your sins, I wasn’t sure you would.”

 

Peggy shrugged.  “Even as dramatic as I know you to be,” she said, “I didn’t expect things to escalate quite so quickly.”  She sighed.  “Atoning for my sins is one thing.  Being used as bait to trap you is quite another.”

 

“About those sins,” Steve said, frowning.

 

She looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

 

He sighed, leaning back, bracing his arms behind himself on the bed, looking exhausted.  “Fury showed me the file.”

 

Peggy frowned.  “Did he now?”

 

Steve shook his head.  “Peggy.”

 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she moved to the bed, taking a seat next to him.

 

“Most of that file was me,” he said quietly.

 

She nodded, lips pursed together.  She wasn’t a melodramatic ninny.  Alex had compiled the file on her in order of transgressions that she would find most damaging.  Which meant Steve was front and center.  But there were plenty of other items that had nothing at all to do with Steve, which would have been more than sufficient to land her in Ross’s sights.  

 

She cleared her throat.  “My failure to keep you safe, to find you after the Valkyrie crashed.  Those are my life’s biggest regrets.  Professionally and personally.”

 

“And for that, you’d let Ross lock you up and throw away the key?”

 

She screwed her eyes shut.  “You lost your life because of me.”

 

“Whatever,” Steve snapped, sounding so thoroughly modern that Peggy turned her head and looked at him.  He sighed.  “Fury said something about you thinking you know everything and different perspectives having value.”

 

“Oh, I have no doubt,” she said wryly.

 

Steve looked at her, frowning.  “What if rather than costing me my life, you’re my shot at having a life?”

 

She frowned, shaking her head.  “I don’t - “

 

“I love you,” he said firmly.  “I loved you in 1943 and I love you today.  Maybe I could have tried harder to get you those coordinates.  Maybe you could have searched longer.”  He sighed, exasperated.  “Bottom line is we both did what we had to do in the moment.  And somehow, we’re here now, together.  I don’t want to waste another shot.  I want a partner, Peggy.  And you’re the one.”

 

Peggy opened her mouth to say something, but she never got the chance.  Steve grabbed her, pulling her close.  His gaze searched her face for a long moment before he leaned in, kissing her.  With a groan, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down onto the bed.

 

Quick escalation seemed to be a theme with Steve lately, as Peggy found herself nude in incredibly short order.  She was on her back, with him over her, his hips cradled by her own.  He was braced on his elbows, looking down at her.

 

“I want you,” he said.  “With me.  Not rotting in some cell for the crime of doing your job and doing it well.”

 

She reached up, cupping his cheek and he turned his face into her palm, pressing a kiss to the center.  “I love you,” she said quietly.  “I always have.”

 

He ducked his head, kissing her and she gasped as he pushed into her.  It was slow, careful.  They were both beat to hell and in desperate need of tenderness and reassurance.  

 

* * *

 

It was late and Steve was laying against her, his head pillowed against her breast.  She carded her fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of him.  For so long, her life had been focused on righting her mistakes, first with Steve and later with Hydra.  She got lost in it, so focused on atonement and revenge that she completely forgot how to live.  

 

“I’m not saying that I’m glad Barton was too injured to follow through with the original plan,” she said.

 

Steve lifted his head and looked at her.

 

She traced a finger down the side of his face.  “But I’m glad you were the ally Nick sent me.”

 

He nodded, leaning down and kissing her.  “Me too.  Sorry I was late.”

 

She gave him a small smile.  “Better late than never.”

 

END STORY


End file.
